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33  WIST  MAIN  STREfiT 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14S80 

(716)  873-4303 


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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

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CIHIVI/ICMH 
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et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  Ie  nombre 
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liiustrent  la  mtthode. 


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WOMAN 


ON  THB 


American  Frontier. 


^  Valuable  and  Jmthentit  iistorg 


OF  THB 


HEROISM,   ADVENTURES,   PRIVATIONS,   CAPTIVITIES, 

TRIALS,  AND  NOBLE  LIVES  AND  DEATHS  OF  THE 

"PIONEER  MOTHERS  OF  THE  REPUBLIC." 


By  WILLIAM  W.  FOWLER,  M.A. 


ILLUSTRATED  WITH  NUMEROUS  ENGRAVINGS. 


HARTFORD: 
S.    S.    SCRANTON    &    CO. 

381. 


uttma 


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V 


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Copyrighted. 

S.  S.  SCRANTON  &  COMPANY. 

1876. 


\  , 


v/ 


// 


w 


v 


PREFACE. 


The  history  of  our  race  is  the  record  mainly  of  men's  achiev- 
ments,  in  war,  in  statecraft  and  diplomacy.  If  mention  is  made 
of  woman  it  is  of  queens  and  intriguing  beauties  who  ruled  and 
schemed  for  power  and  riches,  and  often  worked  mischief  and 
ruin  by  their  wiles. 

The  story  of  woman's  work  in  great  migrations  has  been  told 
only  in  lines  and  passages  where  it  ought  instead  to  fill  volumes. 
Here  and  there  incidents  and  anecdotes  scattered  through  a 
thousand  tomes  give  us  glimpses  of  the  wife,  the  mother,  or  the 
daughter  as  a  heroine  or  as  an  angel  of  kindness  and  goodness, 
but  most  of  her  story  is  a  blank  which  never  will  be  filled  up. 
And  yet  it  is  precisely  in  her  position  as  a  pioneer  and  colonizer 
that  her  influence  is  the  most  potent  and  her  life  story  most  inter- 
esting. 

The  glory  of  a  nation  consists  in  its  migrations  and  the  colonies 
it  plants  as  well  as  in  its  wars  of  conquest.  The  warrior  who 
wins  a  battle  deserves  a  laurel  no  more  rightfully  than  the  pioneer 
who  leads  his  race  into  the  wilderness  and  builds  there  a  new 
empire. 

The  movement  which  has  carried  our  people  from  the  Atlantic 
to  the  Pacific  Ocean  and  in  the  short  space  of  two  centuries  and  a 
half  has  founded  the  greatest  republic  which  the  world  ever  saw, 
has  already  taken  its  place  in  history  as  one  of  the  grandest  achiev- 
meuts  of  humanity  since  the  world  began.  It  is  a  moral  as  well 
as  a  physical  triumph,  and  forms  an  epoch  in  the  advance  of  civili- 
zation. In  this  grand  achievement,  in  this  triumph  of  physical  and 
moral  endurance,  woman  must  be  allowed  her  share  of  the  honor. 

It  would  be  a  truism,  if  we  were  to  say  that  our  Republic  would 
not  have  been  foimded  without  her  aid.  We  need  not  enlarge  on 
the  necessary  position  which  she  fills  in  human  society  every  where. 
We  are  to  speak  of  her  now  as  a  soldier  and  laborer,  a  heroine  and 

(8) 


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PREFACE. 


comforter  in  a  peculiar  set  of  dangers  and  difSculties  such  as  are 
naet  with  in  our  American  wilderness.  The  crossing  of  a  stormy 
ocean,  the  reclamation  of  the  soil  from  nature,  the  fighting  with 
savage  men  are  mere  generalities  wherein  some  vague  idea  may  be 
gained  of  true  pioneer  life.  But  it  is  only  by  following  woman  in 
her  wanderings  and  standing  beside  her  in  the  forest  or  in  the 
cabin  and  by  marking  in  detail  the  thousand  trials  and  perils 
which  surround  her  in  such  a  position  that  we  can  obtain  the  true 
picture  of  the  heroine  in  so  many  unmentioned  battles. 

The  recorded  sum  total  of  an  observation  like  this  would  be  a 
noble  history  of  human  effort.  It  would  show  us  the  latent  causes 
from  which  have  come  extraordinary  effects.  It  would  teach  us 
how  much  this  repubhc  owes  to  its  pioneer  mothers,  and  would  fill 
us  with  gratitude  and  seK-congratulation — gratitude  for  their  ines- 
timable services  to  our  country  and  to  mankind,  self-congratula- 
tion in  that  we  are  the  lawful  inheritors  of  their  work,  and  as 
Americans  are  partakers  in  their  glory. 

In  the  preparation  of  this  work  particular  pains  have  been  taken 
to  avoid  what  was  trite  and  hackneyed,  and  at  the  same  time  pre- 
serve historic  truth  and  accuracy.  Use  has  been  made  to  a  limited 
extent  of  the  ancient  border  books,  selecting  the  most  note-wor- 
thy incidents  which  never  grow  old  because  they  illustrate  a  hero- 
ism, that  like  "renown  and  grace  cannot  die,"  Thanks  are  due 
to  Mrs.  EUet,  from  whose  interesting  book  entitled  "  Women  of 
the  Revolution,"  a  few  passages  have  been  culled.  The  stories  of 
Mrs.  VanAlstine,  of  Mrs.  Slocum,  Mrs.  McCalla,  and  Dicey  Langs- 
ton,  and  of  Deborah  Samson,  are  condensed  from  her  accounts  of 
those  heroines. 

A  large  portion  of  the  work  is,  however,  composed  of  incidents 
which  will  be  new  to  the  reader.  The  eye-witnesses  of  scenes 
which  have  been  lately  enacted  upon  the  border  have  furnished 
the  writer  with  materials  for  many  of  the  most  thrilling  stories  of 
frontier  life,  and  which  it  has  been  his  aim  to  spread  before  the 
reader  in  this  work. 


i 


4 


^-«1 


I 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


w 


Paoi. 
A  ViRGmiA    Matron   encoitragino   the    patriotism   of  her 

iSoNS  AT  the  Death-bed  op  their  Father,  -  -    26 

Lost  m  a  Snow  Storm,       -  -  .  .  .  -    44 

The  Huntress  op  the  Lakes  surprised  bt  Indians,    -  -    60 

A  Heroic  Exploit  in  Supplying  with  Powder  a  Block-house 

Besieged  bt  Indians,  -  -  -  -  -    90 

Daring  Exploit  of  Miss  Van  Alstine,    -  -  -  -  117 

Food  and  Clothing  supplied  to  the  Revolutionary  Army 

BY  Patriotic  Women,  -       -  -  .  -  -  186 

Perilous  Crossing  op  the  Alleghany  River,  -  -  -  158 

Wagon  train  on  the  Prairie,      -  -  -  -  -  178 

Stratagem  of  JIrs.  Daviess  in  Capturing  a  Kentucky  Rob- 


ber,    -  -  -  .  . 

Two  Kentucky  Girls  Captured  by  Indians, 
Parted  For  ever,  -  .  -  _ 

An  Equestrian  Feat, 
Treed  by  a  Bear,  .... 
Rescuing  a  Husband  from  Wolves, 
Defeat  of  Guerillas,        -  -  . 

Mastering  Bandits,  ... 


-  203 

-  219 

-  246 

-  281 

-  836 

-  887 
•  410 

-  416 


I 


i 


V* 


wi 


■ .  / 


W*' 


§ 


CONTENTS. 


.. 


f 


I 


CHAPTER  I. 

Woman  as  a  Pioneer, 

America'a  Unnamed  Heroines. 
Maids  and  Matrons  of  the  "■Mwuflower:^ 
Woman's  "Work  in  Early  Days. 
Devotion  and  Self-sacrifice. 
Strange  Story  of  Mrs.  Hendee. 
Face  to  Face  with  the  Indians. 
A  Mother's  Love  Triumphant. 
Woman  among  the  Savages. 
The  Massacre  of  Wyoming. 
Sufferings  of  a  Forsaken  Household, 
mf  ^^*"o*  Mati  :>n  and  her  Children 
The  Acm6  of  Huroism. 
Adventures  of  an  English  Traveler. 
"\'. .  man  in  the  Rocky  Mountains.* 
A  Story  of  a  Lonely  Life. 
Noctumal  Visitors  and  their  Reception 
Life  in  the  Far  West. 
Jlrs.  Manning's  Home  in  Montana. 
Female  Emigrants  on  the  Plains. 
,,  A  True  Heroine. 

CHAPTER  n. 
Woman's  Work  in  Floods  and  Storms    - 
The  Frontier  two  Centuries  ago.  ' 

The  Pioneer  Army. 
The  Pilgrim  "  Mothers," 

Story  of  Margaret  Winthrop.  * 

Danger  in  the  Wilderness. 

A  Reckless  Husband  and  a  Watchful  Wife. 
Lost  in  a  Snow-stonn. 

The  Beacon-fire  at  Midnight. 
#  Saved  by  a  Woman. 

Mrs.  Noble's  Terrible  Story. 
Alone  with  Famine  and  Death. 
A  Legend  of  the  Connecticut. 
What  befel  the  Nash  Family. 
Three  Heroic  Women. 
^     In  Flood  and  Storm. 
A  Tale  of  the  Prairies. 
A  Western  Settler  and  her  Pate. 
♦  Battling  with  an  Unseen  Enemy. 

Emerging  from  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow, 
Heartbroken  and  Alone. 

a) 


17 


34 


8 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  in. 


Early  Pioneers. — Woman's  Aoyentxtbes  and  Heroism, 
In  the  Maine  Wilderness. 
Voyaging  up  the  Kennebec. 
The  Huntress  of  the  Lakes. 
Extraordinary  Story  of  Mrs.  Trevor. 
Two  Hundred  Miles  from  Civilization. 
Sleeping  in  a  Birch-bark  Canoe. 
A  Fight  with  Five  Savages. 
A  Victorious  Heroine. 
The  Trail  of  a  Lost  Husband. 
Only  just  in  Time. 
A  Narrow  Escape. 
Voyaging  in  an  Ice-boat. 
Snow-bound  in  a  Cave. 
Fighting  for  Food. 
Grappling  with  a  Forest  Monster. 
Mrs.  Storey,  the  Forester. 
Alida  Johnson's  Thrilling  Narrative. 
Caught  in  a  Death-trap. 
A  Desperate  Measure  and  its  Result. 
The  Connecticut  Settlers. 
Their  Courage  and  Heroism. 


66 


CHAPTER  IV. 


'P. 


On  the  Indian  T.ail, 7a 

A  Block-house  Attacked. 
Wild  Pictures  of  Indian  Warfare. 
Exploits  of  Mrs.  Howe. 
A  Pioneer  Woman's  Record. 
Holding  the  Fort  alone. 
Treacherous  "  Lo." 
Witnessing  a  Husband's  Tortures. 
The  Beautiful  Victim. 
Forced  to  Carry  a  Mother's  Scalp. 
The  Fate  of  the  Glendcnnings. 
A  Feast  and  a  Massacre. 

Led  into  Captivity.  16 

Elizabeth  Lane's  Adventures. 
In  Ambush. 
Siege  of  Bryant's  Station. 
Outwitting  the  Savages. 
Mrs.  Porter's  Combat  with  the  Indians. 
Ghastly  Trophies  of  her  Prowess. 
"  Long  Knife  Squaw." 
Bmokiiij^  out  Redskins. 
The  Widows  of  Innis  Station. 
A  Daring  Achievement. 
The  Amazon  of  the  Stockade. 


II 


I 


CONTENTS. 


9 


6 


CHAPTER  V. 

Captive  Scouts. — Heboines  op  thr  Mohawk  Valley    . 
The  Poetry  of  Border  Life.  ^^  * 

Jtli's.  Mack  ia  her  Forest  Fort. 
The  Ambuah  in  the  Cornfield. 
The  Night-watch  at  the  Port-hole. 
A  Shot  in  the  Dark.  *        , 

The  Hiding  Place  of  her  Little  Ones. 
A  Sad  Discovery.  '     ' 

An  Avenger  on  the  Track.  >    * 

Massy  Herbeson'a  Strange  Storv. 
On  the  Trail. 

Miss  "Washburn  land  the  Scouts. 
An  Extraordinary  i2ewa)n<7'c. 
A  Wild  Fight  with  the  Savatrea.  ■ 

Mysterious  Aid. 

Passing  through  an  Indian  Village. 
Hairbreadth  Escapes. 
Courageous  Conduct  of  Mrs.  Van  Alstine. 
Settlements  on  the  Mohawk. 
Circumventing  a  Robber  Band. 
How  she  Saved  him.  ' 

The  Pioneer  Woman  at  Home. 


98 


.       CHAPTER  VI. 

Patriot  Women  of  the  Revolution,       -       -       . 
Times  that  Tried  Men's  Souls. 
The  Women  of  Wyoming.  * 

Silas  Deane's  Sister. 
Mrs.  Corbin,  the  Cannoneer. 
A  Heroine  on  the  Gun-deck. 
The  Schoharie  Girl. 
Women  of  the  Mohawk  Wars. 
Concerning  a  Curious  Sioge. 
The  Patriot  Daughter  and  the  Bloody  Scouts. 
What  she  Dared  him  to  do. 
Bravo  Deeds  of  Mary  Lcdyard. 
Ministering  Angels. 
Heroism  of  "Mother  Bailey." 
Petticoats  and  Cartridges. 
A  Thrilling  Incident  of  Valley  Forge. 
Ready-wittL'd  Ladies. 
Miss  Geipcr,  iho  Courier. 
How  Miss  Darrah  Saved  the  Army. 
Adventures  of  McCalla's  Wife. 
Love  and  Constancy. 
A  Clergyman's  Story  of  his  Mothei. 


121 


• 


■J 


10 


CONTENTS. 
CHAPTER  Vn. 


'  ( 


Oomo  Wkst.— Perhs  by  thb  Way,  ----.--    150 
After  the  Revolution. 
Starting  for  the  Mississippi. 
Curious  Methods  of  Migration. 
A  Modem  Exodus. 
Incidents  on  the  Route. 
Wonderful  Stonr  of  Mrs.  Jameson. 
Forsaking  all  for  Love. 
A  Woman  with  One  Idea. 
That  Fatal  Stream. 
Alone  in  the  Wilderness. 
A  Glimpse  of  the  Enemy. 
Strength  of  a  Mother's  Love. 
Saved  from  a  Rattlesnake. 
Individual  Enterprise. 
Migrating  in  a  Flat-boat. 
A  Ni^lit  of  Peril  on  the  Ohio  River. 
Terrifying  Sounds  and  Sights. 
A  Fiery  Scene  of  Savage  Orgies. 
Coolness  and  Daring  of  a  Mother. 
An  Extraordinary  Line  of  Mothers  and  Daugh- 
ters. 
A  Pioneer  Pedigree  and  its  Heroines. 


J     !•■ 


CHAPTER  VIH. 

Home  Life  in  toe  Backwoods, 

Tlie  Nomads  of  the  West. 
Romance  of  a  Pioneer's  March. 
How  the  Cabin  was  Built. 
Where  Mrs.  Graves  Concealed  her  Babes. 
Husband  and  Wife  at  Komc. 
Rathe  Rough  Furniture. 
Forest  Fortresses. 
Fighting  for  her  Children. 
Firing  the  Alarm  Gun. 
Mrs.  Fulsom  and  the  Ambushed  Savage. 
Domestic  Life  on  the  Border, 
From  a  Wedding  to  a  Funeral. 
Among  the  Beasts  and  Savages. " 
Little  Ones  in  the  Wilds. 
Woman  takes  Care  of  Herself. 
Ann  Bush's  Sorrows. 
Tlie  Bright  Side  of  the  Picture. 
Western  Hospitality. 
A  Traveler's  Story. 
"Evangeline"  on  ilie  Frontier. 
An  Eden  of  the  Wilderness  and  its  Eve. 


173 


• 


CONTENTS. 


11 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Some  Remarkable  "Women,       -       -       .       .       ,       . 
Diary  of  a  Heroine. 
The  Border  Maid,  Wife,  Wotlier,  and  Widow. 
Strange  Vicissitudes  in  the  Life  of  Mrs.  W. 
Adopted  by  an  Indian  Tribe. 
Shrewd  Plan  of  Escape. 

The  Hiding-place  in  the  Glen.  /  . 

Surprised  and  Surrounded,  but  Safe. 
Successful  Issue  of  her  Enterprise. 
Mrs.  Marliss  and  her  Strate^^y. 

Combing  the  Wool  over  a  Savage's  Eyea. 
,    •  Marking  the  Trail. 

A  Captive's  Cunning  Devices. 

A  Pursuit  and  a  Rescue.  ^ 

Extraordinary  Presence  of  Mind. 

A  Robber  captured  by  a  Woman. 

A  Brave,  Good  Girl. 

Helping  "  the  Lord's  People." 

A  Home  of  Love  in  the  Wilderness. 

A  Singular  Courtship. 

The  Benevolent  Matron  and  her  Errand. 

Story  of  the  Pioneer  Quakeress.. 


-    105 


CHAPTER  X. 


A  Romance  of  the  Bouder, 

The  Honeymoon  in  the  Mountains. 
United  in  Life  and  in  Death. 
A  Devoted  Lover. 
Capture  of  Two  Young  Ladies. 
Discovery  and  Rescue. 
The  Captain  and  the  Maid  at  the  Mill. 
Tlie  Cliase  Family  in  Trouble. 
The  Romance  ot  a  Young  Girl's  Life. 
Danger  in  the  Wind. 
Hunter  and  Lover. 
Treaclierous  Savages. 
Old  Chase  Knocked  Over. 
The  fight  on  the  Plains. 
An  Unexpected  Meeting. 
Heroism  of  La  Bonte. 
Tlic  Guard  of  Love. 
The  Marriage  of  Mary. 
JMiss  Rouse  and  Jier  Lover. 
A  Briilal  and  a  Massacre, 


21' 


t 


Brought  back  to  Life  but  not  to  Joy. 
A  Fruitless  Sean'h  for  a  Lost  Bride. 
Mrs.  Philbrick's  Singular  Expcrienco. 


12 


t'UNTENI'S. 


CHAPTER  XL 


Pathetic  Scenes  of  Pioneeu  Lif?!:,  -       -       -       . 
Grief  in  the  Pioneer's  Home. 
Graves  in  the  Wilderness. 
The  Returned  Captive  and  the  Nurseiy  Song. 
,      The  Lost  Child  of  Wyoming. 

Little  Frances  and  her  Indian  Captors. 
Parted  For  Ever. 
Discovery  of  the  Lost  One. 
An  Affecting  Interview. 
Striking  Story  of  the  Kansas  War. 
The  Prairie  on  Fire. 
Mother  and  Children  Alone. 
Homeless  and  Helpless. 
Solitude,  Famine,  and  Cold. 
Three  Fearful  Days. 
The  Burning  Cabin. 
A  Gathering  Storm. 
Affecting  Scenes. 

A  Dream  of  Home  and  Happiness. 
Return  of  Father  and  Son. 
A  Love  Stronger  than  Death. 
The  Last  Embrace. 
A  Desolate  Household. 


239 


CHAPTER  XII. 


The  Heroines  of  the  South  West, 

Texas  and  the  South  West. 
Across  the  "  Staked  Plain." 
Mrs.  Drayton  and  Mrs.  Benham. 
A  Perilous  Journey. 
Sunstrokes  and  Reptiles. 
Death  From  Tliirst. 
Mexican  Bandits. 

A  Night  Gallop  to  the  Rendezvous. 
Escape  of  our  Heroines. 
A  Ride  for  Life. 
Saving  Husband  and  Children. 
Surrounded  by  Brigands  on  the  Pecos. 
Heroism  of  Mrs.  Benham. 
The  TreBch"rous  Envoy. 
•  The  Gold  Hunters  of  Arizona. 
Mrs.  D.  and  her  Dearly  Bought  Treasure. 
Battling  for  Life  in  the  California  Desert. 
The  Last  Survivor  of  a  Perilous  Journey. 
Mrs.  L.,  the  Widow  of  the  Colorado. 
'  Among  the  Camanches. 

A  Prodigious  Equestrian  Feat. 


S6} 


• 


CONTENTS. 


13 


CHAPTER  Xm 

Woman's  Experience  on  the  Northern  Border, 
March  of  the  '  Grand  Army." 
Peculiar  Perils  of  the  Northern  Border. 
Mrs.  Dalton's  Record. 
A  Daugei'ous  Expedition. 
Her  Husband's  Fate. 
A  Trance  of  Grief. 
Between  Frost  and  Fire. 
A  Choice  of  Deaths. 
Rescued  from  the  Flames. 
One  Sunny  Hour. 
The  Storm-Fiend. 
Terrific  Spectacle. 
In  the  Whirlwind's  Track. 
The  Only  Refuge. 
Locked  in  a  Dungeon. 
A  Fight  for  Deliverance. 
Arrival  of  Friends. 
Another  Peril. 
Walled  in  hy  Flames. 
Passing  Througli  a  Fiery  Lane. 
Closing  Days  of  Mrs.  Dalton. 
A  Story  of  Minnesota. 
'  What  the  Hunters  Saw. 

A  Mother's  Deatliless  Love. 


287 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Encoxtntehs  with  Wn.D  Beasts — Couraob  and  Daring, 
Peraonal  Combat  with  a  Bear. 
The  Huntress  of  the  Northwest. 
An  Intrepid  Wife  and  her  Assailant. 
Combat  with  an  Enraged  Moose. 
A  Bloody  Circus  in  the  Snow. 
Trapping  Wolves— a  Georgia  Girl's  Pl>  -"k. 
A  Kent-    '-',' Girl's  Adventure. 
A  Wild  1  ack  in  Pursuit 
Tho  Snapping  of  a  Black  Woirs  Jaws. 
Female  Stratc.:Ty  and  its  Success. 
A  Cabin  Full  of  Wolves. 
Comical  Denouement. 
A  Young  Lady  Treed  by  a  Bear. 
Some  of  Mrs.  Dagget's  Exploits. 
Up  the  Platte,  and  After  the  Grizzlies. 
Catching  a  Bear  with  a  Lasso. 
What  a  Brave  Woman  Can  Do. 
Facing  Death  in  the  Desert. 
A  Woman's  Home  in  Wyoming. 
A  Night  witli  a  Mountain  Lion. 


810 


u 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XV. 
Across  the  Continent. — On  the  Plains,         ....    339 
Voyagiiifif  in  a  Prairie  Schooner. 
A  Cavalry  Oliicer's  Story. 
The  Homeless  Wanderer  of  the  Plains. 
]yii's.  N.  Battling  alone  with  Death. 
A  Fatherless  and  Childless  Home. 
The  Plagues  of  Egypt. 
Murrain,  Grasshoppers,  and  Famine. 
Following  a  Forlorn  Hope. 
A  Bridal  Tour  and  its  Ending. 
On  the  Borders  of  the  Great  Desert.   ■ 
An  Extraordinary  Experience. 
Women  Living  in  Caves. 
.  A  Waterspout  and  its  Consequences. 
Drowning  in  a  Drought. 
Fleeing  from  Death. 

A  Woman's  Partnership  in  a  Herd  of  Buffaloes. 
The  Huntress  of  the  Foot-hills. 
A  Charge  by  Ten  Thousand  Bison. 
Hiding  in  a  Sink-hole. 
A  Terrible  Danger  and  a  Miraculous  Escape. 
A  Prairie  Home  and  its  Mistress. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Woman  A8  a  Missionary  to  the  Indians, 
The  Heroine  and  Martyr  among  the  Heathen. 
Mrs.  Eliot  and  her  Tawny  Proteges. 
Five  Thousand  Praying  Indians. 
Mrs.  Kirkland  among  the  Oneidas. 
Prayer-meetings  in  Wigwams. 
The  Psalm-singing  Squaws. 
.  A  Revolutionary  Matron  and  her  Story. 

A  Pioneer  Sunday-school  and  its  Teacher. 
The  Last  of  the  Mohegans  and  their  Benefactors. 
Heroism  of  the  Moravian  Sisters. 
The  Guardians  of  the  Pennsylvania  Frontier. 
A  Gathering  Storm. 
Prayer-meetings  and  Massacres. 
Surrcjncv  '1  by  Flame  and  Carnage. 
An  Unexpected  Assault. 
The  Fate  of  the  Defenders. 
A  Fiery  Martyrdom. 
Last  Scene  in  a  Noble  Life. 
Closing  Days  of  Gnadenhutten. 
Massacre  of  Indian  Converts. 
The  Death  Hynm  and  Parting  Prayer. 

CHAPTER  XVn. 

Woman  as  a  Missionary  to  the  Indians,  (Continued,)  - 
Missionary  Wives  Crossing  the  Rocky  Mouutuiua. 
Buried  Alive  in  the  Snow. 
Shooting  the  Rnpids  in  a  Birch  Canoe. 
Bucked  Down  by  a  Whirlpool. 


358 


377 


• 


CONTENTS. 


I 


16 


i 


A  Pe-rful  Situation  and  its  Issue. 
/  iJrace  of  Heroines  and  their  Expedition. 
Women  Doubling  Cape  Horn. 
A  Parting  Hymn  and  Long  Farewell. 
A  Missionary  Wife's  Experience  in  Oreo'on. 
AH  Alone  with  the  Wolves.  " 

A  Woman's  Instinct  in  the  Hour  of  Danger 
Dr.  White's  Dilemma  and  its  Solution. 
A  Clean  Pair  of  Heels  and  a  Convenient  Tree. 
A  Perilous  "Voyage  and  its  Consequences. 
A  Heartrending  Catastrophe. 
A  Mother's  Lost  Treasure. 
A  Savage  Coterie  and  the  White  Strano-er. 
Mrs.  Whitman  and  Mrs.  Spalding. 
A  Murderous  Suspicion, 
The  Benefactress  and  the  Martyr. 

CHAPTER  XVIIL 

Woman  m  the  Army, 

The  Daughter  of  the  Regiment. 
A  Loving  Wife  and  a  True  Patriot. 
Mrs.  Warner  in  the  Canadian  Campaign. 
The  Disguised  Couriers. 
Deborah  Samson  in  Buff  and  Blue. 
A  Woman  in  Love  with  a  Woman. 
A  Wound  in  Front  and  what  it  Led  to. 
Mrs.  Coolidge's  Campaign  in  New  Mexico. 
Bearing  Dispatches  Across  the  Plains. 
A  Fight  with  Guerillas. 
A  Race  for  Life. 
Two  against  Five. 

Frontier  Women  in  our  Last  Great  War. 
Their  Exploits  and  Devotion. 
Miss  Wellman  as  Soldier  and  Nurse. 
The  Secret  Revealed. 
A  Noble  Life. 
A  Devoted  Wife. 
Life  in  a  Confederate  Fort. 
The  Little  Soldier  and  her  Story. 
A  Sister's  Love. 
The  Last  Sacrifice. 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
Aonoss  THE  Rocky  Mountains,  -       -        -       . 

A  Woman's  Adventures  on  the  Platte  River. 
On  a  False  Trail,  and  What  it  Led  To. 
Oyer  a  Precipice,  and  Down  a  Thousand  Feet. 
All  Alone  on  the  Face  of  the  Mountain. 
Mrs.  Hinman's  Extraordinary  Situation. 
Swinging  Between  Heaven  and  Earth. 
What  a  Loving  Wife  Will  Do. 

•  Living?  or  Dying  Beside  her  Husband. 

A  Night  on  the  Edge  of  a  Precipice. 
Out  of  the  Jaws  of  Deat!\ 


.    39Q 


481 


/ 


16 


CONTENTS. 


'    The  Two  Fugitive  Women  of  the  Chapparel. 
A  Secret  Too  Dreadful  to  be  Told. 
The  Specters  of  the  Mountain  Camp. 
Maternal  Sacrifice  and  Filial  Love. 
The  Cannibals  of  the  Cafion. 
The  Insane  Hunter  and  his  Victims. 
A  "Woman's  Only  Alternative. 
Female  Endurance  ta.  Male  Courage. 
Mrs.  Donner's  Sublime  Devotion. 
»    ■  Dying  at  her  Post  of  Duty. 

CHAPTER  XX. 
The  Comforter  and  the  Guardian,        -       -       -       -  .     - 
The  Ruined  Home  and  its  Heroine. 
The  Angel  of  the  Sierra  Nevada. 
Mrs.  Maurice  and  the  Dying  Miners. 
The  Music  of  a  Woman's  Word. 
'  The  Young  Gold  Hunter  and  his  Nurse. 
Starving  Camp  in  Idaho. 
The  Song  in  the  Ears  of  the  Dying. 
The  Seven  Miners  and  their  Golden  Gift. 
A  Graveyard  of  Pioneer  Women. 
Mrs.  R.  and  her  Wounded  Husband. 
The  Guardian  Mother  of  the  Island. 
The  Female  Navigator  and  the  Pirate. 
A  Life-boat  Manned  by  a  Girl. 
A  Night  of  Peril. 
A  Den  of  Murderers  and  an  Unsullied  Maiden. 
The  Freezing  Soldiers  of  Montana. 
A  Despairing  Cry  and  its  Echo. 
The  Storm-Angel's  Visit. 

CHAPTER  XXI. 


460 


501 


Woman  as  an  Edttcator  on  the  Frontier,     - 
A  Mother  of  Soldiers  and  Statesmen. 
A  Home-school  on  the  Border. 
The  Prairie  Mother  and  her  Four  Children. 
A  Garden  for  Human  Plants  and  Flowers. 
The  First  Lesson  of  the  Boy  and  Girl  on  the  Frontier. 
The  Wife's  School  in  the  Heart  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
A  Leaf  from  the  Life  of  Washington. 
The  Hero-Mothers  of  the  Republic. 
A  Patriot  Woman  and  a  Martyr. 
A  Mother's  Influence  on  the  Life  of  Andrew  Jackson. 
Woman's  Discernment  of  a  Boy's  Genius. 
West,  the  Painter,  and  Webster,  the  StaLesman. 
The  Place  where  our  Great  Men  Learned  A.  B.  C. 
Miss  M.  and  her  Labors  in  Illinois. 
A  Martyrdom  in  the  Cause  of  Education. 
Woman  as  an  Educator  of  Human  Society. 
Incident  in  the  Life  of  a  Millionaire. 
What  a  Mother's  Portrait  Did. 
A  Woman's  Visit  to  "  Pandemonium  Camp."  * 
An  Ani{el  of  Civilization.  ' 


r*-" 


CHAPTER   I. 

WOMAN  AS  A  PIONEER.  .  .' 

EVERY  battle  has  its  unnamed  heroes.  The  com- 
mon soldier  enters  the  stormed  fortress  and, 
falling  in  the  breach  which  his  valor  has  made,  sleeps 
in  a  nameless  grave.  The  subaltern  whose  surname 
is  scarcely  heard  beyond  the  roll-call  on  parade,  bears 
the  colors  of  his  company  where  the  fight  is  hottest. 
And  the  corporal  who  heads  his  file  in  the  final  charge, 
is  forgotten  in  the  "  earthquake  shout"  of  the  victory 
which  he  has  helped  to  win.  The  victory  may  be 
due  as  much,  or  more,  to  the  patriot  courage  of  him 
who  is  content  to  do  his  duty  in  the  rank  and  file,  as 
to  the  dashing  colonel  who  heads  the  regiment,  or 
even  to  the  general  who  plans  the  campaign:  and 
yet  unobserved,  unknown,  and  unrewarded  the  former 
passes  into  oblivion  while  the  leader's  name  is  on  every 
tongue,  and  perhaps  goes  down  in  history  as  that  of 
one  who  deserved  well  of  his  country. 

Our  comparison  is  a  familiar  one.  There  are  other 
battles  £nd  armies  besides  those  where  thousands  of 
disciplined  men  move  over  the  ground  to  the  sounds 
of  the  drum  and  fife.  Life  itself  is  a  battle,  and  no 
grander  army  has  ever  been  set  in  motion  since  the 
world  began  than  that  which  for  more  than  two  cen- 
turies and  a  half  has  been  moving  across  our  continent 
from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  fighting  its  way 
through  countless  hardships  and  dangers,  bearing  the 
^  2  (17) 


'■^■■' 


18 


WOMAN  AS  A  PIONEER. 


banner  of  civilization,  and  building  a  new  republic  in 
the  wilderness. 

In  this  army  Woman  has  been  too  often  the 
Unnamed  Heroine. 

Let  us  not  forget  her  now.  Her  patience,  her  cour- 
age, her  fortitude,  her  tact,  her  presence  of  mind  in 
trying  hours ;  these  are  the  shining  virtues  which  we 
have  to  record.  Woman  as  a  pioneer  standing  be- 
side her  rougher,  stronger  companion — man ;  first  on 
the  voyage  across  a  stormy  ocean,  from  England  to 
America ;  then  at  Plymouth,  and  Jamestown,  and  all 
the  settlements  first  planted  by  Europeans  on  our 
coast ;  then  through  the  trackless  wilderness,  onward 
across  the  continent,  till  every  river  has  been  forded, 
and  every  chain  of  mountains  has  been  scaled,  the 
Peaceful  Ocean  has  been  reached,  and  fifty  thousand 
cities,  towns,  and  hamlets  all  over  the  land  have  been 
formed  from  those  aggregations  of  household  life 
where  woman's  work  has  been  wrought  out  to  its 
fullness. 

Among  all  the  characteristics  of  woman  there  ia 
none  more  marked  than  the  self-devotion  which  she 
displays  in  what  she  believes  is  a  righteous  cause,  or 
where  for  her  loved  ones  she  sacrifices  herself.  In 
India  we  see  her  wrapped  in  flames  and  burned  to 
ashes  with  the  corpse  of  her  husband.  Under  the 
Moslem  her  highest  condition  is  a  life-long  incarcera^ 
tion.  She  patiently  places  her  shoulders  under  the 
burden  which  the  aboriginal  lord  of  the  American 
forest  lays  upon  them.  Calmly  and  in  silence  she 
submits  to  the  onerous  duties  imposed  upon  her  by 
social  and  religious  laws.  Throughout  the  whole 
heathen  world  she  remained,  in  the  words  of  an 


'  i. 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  WOMAN. 


19 


elegant  French  writer,  "anonymous,  indifferent  to 
herself,  and  leaving  no  trace  of  her  passage  upon 
earth."  '■ 

The  benign  spirit  of  Christianity  has  lifted  woman 
from  the  position  she  held  under  other  religious  sys- 
tems and  elevated  her  to  a  higher  sphere.  She  is 
brought  forward  as  a  teacher ;  she  displays  a  martyr's 
courage  in  the  presence  of  pestilence,  or  ascends  the 
deck  of  the  mission-ship  to  take  her  part  in  "  perils 
among  the  heathen."  She  endures  the  hardships  and 
faces  the  dangers  of  colonial  life  with  a  new  sense  of 
her  responsibility  as  a  wife  and  mother.  In  all  these 
capacities,  whether  teaching,  ministering  to  the  sick, 
or  carrying  the  Gospel  to  the  heathen,  she  shows  the 
same  self-devotion  as  in  "  the  brave  days  of  old ;" 
it  is  this  quality  which  peculiarly  fits  her  to  be  the 
pioneer's  companion  in  the  new  world,  and  by  her 
works  in  that  capacity  she  must  be  judged. 

If  all  true  greatness  should  be  estimated  by  the 
good  it  performs,  it  is  peculiarly  desirable  that  wo- 
man's claims  to  distinction  should  thus  be  estimated 
and  awarded.  In  America  her  presence  has  been  ac- 
knowledged, and  her  aid  faithfully  rendered  from  the 
beginning.  In  the  era  of  colonial  life ;  in  the  cruel 
wars  with  the  aborigines ;  in  the  struggle  of  the  Rev- 
olution ;  in  the  western  march  of  the  army  of  explor- 
ation and  settlement,  a  grateful  people  must  now 
recognize  her  services. 

There  is  a  beautiful  tradition,  that  the  first  foot 
which  pressed  the  snow-clad  rock  of  Plymouth  was 
that  of  Mary  Chilton,  a  fair  young  maiden,  and  that 
the  last  survivor  of  those  heroic  pioneers  was  Mary 
AUerton,  who  lived  to  see  the  planting  of  twelve  out 


/h 


^ 


WOMAN  AS  A  PIONEER. 


of  the  thirteen  colonies,  which  formed  the  nucleus  of 
these  United  States. 

In  the  Mayfloiuer,  nineteen  wives  accompanied  their 
husbands  to  a  waste  land  and  uninhabited,  save  by 
the  wily  and  vengeful  savage.  On  the  unfloored  hut, 
she  who  had  been  nurtured  amid  the  rich  carpets  and 
curtains  of  the  mother-land,  rocked  her  new-born  babe, 
and  complained  not.  She,  who  in  the  home  of  her 
youth  had  arranged  the  gorgeous  shades  of  embroid- 
ery, or,  perchance,  had  compounded  the  rich  venison 
pasty,  as  her  share  in  the  housekeeping,  now  pounded 
the  coarse  Indian  corn  for  her  children's  bread,  and 
bade  them  ask  God's  blessing,  ere  they  took  theii 
scanty  portion.  When  the  snows  sifted  through  the 
miserable  roof-tree  upon  her  little  ones,  she  gathered 
them  closer  to  her  bosom ;  she  taught  them  the  Bible, 
and  the  catechism,  and  the  holy  hymn,  though  the 
war-whoop  of  the  Indian  rang  through  the  wild. 
Amid  the  untold  hardships  of  colonial  life  she  infused 
new  strength  into  her  husband  by  her  firmness,  and 
solaced  his  weary  hours  by  her  love.     She  was  to  him, 

" an  undergoing  spirit,  to  bear  up 


Against  wliate'er  ensued." 


The  names  of  these  nineteen  pioneer-matrons  should 
be  engraved  in  letters  of  gold  on  the  pillars  of  Amer- 
ican history. 

The  Wives  of  the  Pilgrims. 


pr#.  Pa«H  "^xtmut. 


Ittrjs. WxnUt. 

Pw. ^ifl0«alf. 


'  i 


if  OTHERS  AND  DAUGHTERS  OF  THE  MAYFLOWER.   21 


Pw. Partln. 

Pw. IttuUittiiJ. 

Nor  should  the  names  of  the  daughters  of  these 
heroic  women  be  forgotten,  who,  with  their  mothers 
and  fathers  shared  the  p?rils  of  that  winter's  voyage, 
and  bore,  with  their  parents,  the  toils,  and  hardships, 
and  changes  of  the  infant  colony. 

The  Daughters  of  the  Pilgrim  Mothers, 
^lisalrettt  ((^nxvtt,  JSavali  Clinton* 

Part)  ^lUttou,  Pary  d^mton. 

^tiisriUa  PttlUttjei. 

The  voyage  of  the  Mayflower  ^  the  landing  upon  a 
desolate  coast  in  the  dead  of  winter;  the  building  of 
those  ten  small  houses,  with  oiled  paper  for  windows ; 
the  suffering  of  that  first  winter  and  spring,  in  which 
woman  bore  her  whole  share ;  these  were  the  first 
steps  in  the  grand  movement  which  has  carried  the 
Anglo-Saxon  race  across  the  American  continent. 
The  next  steps  were  the  penetration  of  the  wilderness 
westward  from  the  sea,  by  the  emigrant  pioneers  and 
their  wives.  Fighting  their  way  through  dense  forests, 
building  cabins,  block-houses,  nnd  churches  in  the 
clearings  which  they  had  made ;  warred  agoinst  by 
cruel  savages  ;  woman  was  ever  present  to  guard,  to 
comfort,  to  work.  The  annals  of  colonial  history  teem 
with  her  deeds  of  love  and  heroism,  and  what  are 
those  recorded  instances  to  those  whi(  ^i  had  no  chroni- 
cler ?      She  loaded  the  flint-lock  in  i  le  block-house 


22 


WOMAN  AS  A  PIONEER. 


%'. 


while  it  was  surrounded  by  yelling  savages ;  she  ex- 
posed herself  to  the  scalping-knife  to  save  her  babe  j 
in  her  forest-home  she  worked  and  watched,  far  from 
the  loved  ones  in  Old  England  ;  and  by  discharging  a 
thousand  duties  in  the  household  and  the  field,  did  her 
share  in  a  silent  way  towards  building  up  the  young 
Republic  of  the  West. 

Sometimes  she  ranged  herself  in  battle  beside  her 
husband  or  brother,  and  fought  with  the  steadiness 
and  bravery  of  a  veteran.  But  her  heroism  never 
shone  so  brightly  as  in  imdergoing  danger  in  defense 
of  her  children. 

In  the  early  days  of  the  settlement  of  Royalton, 
Vermont,  a  sudden  attack  was  made  upon  it  by  the 
Indians.  Mrs.  Hendee,  the  wife  of  one  of  the  settlers, 
was  working  alone  in  the  field,  her  husband  being 
absent  on  military  duty,  when  the  Indians  entered 
her  house  and  capturing  her  children  carried  them 
across  the  White  river,  at  that  place  a  hundred  yards 
wide  and  quite  deep  for  fording,  and  placed  them 
under  keepers  who  had  some  other  persons,  thirty  or 
forty  in  number,  in  charge. 

Returning  from  the  field  Mrs.  Hendco  discovered 
the  fate  of  her  children.  Her  first  outburst  of  grief 
was  heart-rending  to  behold,  but  this  was  only  trans- 
ient ;  she  ceased  her  lamentations,  and  like  the  lioness 
who  has  been  robbed  of  her  litter,  she  bounded  on  the 
trail  of  her  plunderers.  Resolutely  dashing  into  the 
river,  she  stemmed  the  current,  planting  her  feet  firmly 
on  the  bottom  and  pushed  across.  With  pallid  face, 
flashing'cyes,  and  lips  compressed,  maternal  love  dom- 
inating every  fear,  she  strode  into  the  Indian  camp, 
regardless  of  the   tomahawks  menacingly  ilourishud 


A  MOTHER'S  DARING. 


23 


V  I 


^ 


round  her  head,  boldly  demanded  the  release  of  her 
little  ones,  and  persevered  in  her  alternate  upbraidinga 
and  supplications,  till  her  request  was  granted.  ?he 
then  carried  her  children  back  through  the  river  and 
landed  them  in  safety  on  the  other  bank. 

Not  content  with  what  she  had  done,  like  a  patriot 
as  she  was,  she  immediately  returned,  begged  for  the 
release  of  the  children  of  others,  again  was  rewarded 
with  success,  and  brought  two  or  three  more  away ; 
again  returned,  and  again  succeeded,  till  she  had  res- 
cued the  whole  fifteen  of  her  neighbors'  children  who 
had  been  thus  snatched  awav  from  their  distracted 
parents.  On  her  last  visit  to  the  camp  of  the  enemy, 
the  Indians  were  so  struck  with  her  conduct  that  one 
of  them  declared  that  so  brave  a  squaw  deserved  to 
be  carried  across  the  river,  and  offered  to  take  her 
on  his  back  and  carry  her  over.  She,  in  the  same 
spirit,  accepted  the  offer,  mounted  the  back  of  the 
gallant  savage,  was  carried  to  the  opposite  bank, 
where  she  collected  her  rescued  troop  of  children, 
and  hastened  away  to  restore  them  to  their  overjoyed 
parents. 

During  the  memorable  Wyoming  massacre,  Mrs. 
Mary  Gould,  wife  of  James  Gould,  with  the  other 
women  remaining  in  the  village  of  Wyoming,  sought 
safety  in  the  fort.  In  the  haste  and  confusion  at- 
tending this  act,  she  left  her  boy,  about  four  years 
old,  behind.  Obeying  the  instincts  of  a  mother,  and 
turning  a  deaf  ear  to  the  admonitions  of  friends,  she 
started  off  on  a  perilous  search  for  the  missing  one. 
It  was  dark  ;  she  was  alone  ;  and  the  foe  was  lurking 
around  j  but  the  agonies  of  death  could  not  exceed 


IfmwlttiiufmmiUUtlmtimmmiaimm 


*«M1 


24 


WOMAX  AS  A  PIONEER. 


her  agonies  of  suspense ;  so  she  hastened  on.     She 
traversed  the  fields  which,  but  a  few  hours  before, 


where- 


"  "Were  trampled  by  the  hurrj-ing  crowd," 


fiery  hearts  and  armed  hands, 


Encountered  in  the  battle  cloud," 


and  where  unarmed  hands  were  now  resting  on  cold 
and  motionless  hearts.  After  a  search  of  between  one 
and  two  hours,  she  found  her  child  on  the  bank  of  the 
river,  sporting  with  a  little  band  of  p?-.ymates.  Clasp- 
ing her  treasure  in  her  arms,  she  hurried  back  and 
reached  the  fort  in  safety. 

During  the  struggles  of  the  Revolution,  the  priva- 
tions sustained,  and  the  efforts  made,  by  women,  were 
neither  few  nor  of  short  duration.  Many  of  them 
are  delineated  in  the  present  volume.  Yet  innumera- 
ble instances  of  faithful  toil,  and  patient  endurance, 
must  have  boon  covered  with  oblivion.  In  how  many 
a  lone  home,  from  which  the  father  was  long  sundered 
by  a  soldier's  destiny,  did  the  mother  labor  to  perform 
to  their  little  ones  both  his  duties  and  her  own,  having 
no  witness  of  the  extent  of  her  heavy  burdens  and 
sleepless  anxieties,  save  the  Hearer  of  prayer. 

A  good  and  hoary-headed  man,  who  had  passed  the 
limits  of  fourscore,  once  said  to  me,  "My  father  was 
in  the  army  during  the  whole  eight  years  of  the  Rev- 
olutionary War,  at  first  as  a  common  soldier,  afterwards 
as  an  officer.  My  mother  haa  the  sole  charge  of  us 
four  little  ones.  Our  house  was  a  poor  one,  and  far 
from  neighbors.  I  have  a  keen  remembrance  of  the 
terrible  cold  of  some  of  those  winters.  The  snow  Iny 
BO  deep  and  long,  that  it  was  difficult  to  cut  or  draw 


M 


f 


!■»•*■ 


REVOLUTIONARY  HEROINES  AT  HOME. 


25 


le 


fuel  from  the  woods,  or  to  get  our  com  to  the  mill, 
when  we  had  any.  My  mother  was  the  possessor  of 
a  coffee-mill.  In  that  she  ground  wheat,  and  made 
coarse  bread,  which  we  ate,  and  were  thankful.  It 
was  not  always  we  could  be  allowed  as  much,  even  of 
this,  as  our  keen  appetites  craved.  Many  is  the  time 
that  we  have  gone  to  bed,  with  only  a  drink  of  water 
for  our  supper,  in  which  a  little  molasses  had  been 
mingled.  We  patiently  received  it,  for  we  knew  our 
mother  did  as  well  for  us  as  she  could ;  and  we  hoped 
to  have  something  bettei  in  the  morning.  She  was 
never  heard  to  repine ;  and  young  as  we  were,  we 
tried  to  make  her  loving  spirit  and  heavenly  trust,  our 
example. 

"  When  my  father  was  permitted  to  come  home,  his 
stay  was  short,  and  he  had  not  much  to  leave  us,  for 
the  pay  of  those  who  achieved  our  liberties  was  slight, 
and  irregularly  given.  Yet  when  he  went,  my  mother 
ever  bade  liim  farewell  with  a  cheerful  fixce,  and  told 
him  not  to  be  anxious  about  his  children,  for  she  would 
Watch  over  them  night  and  day,  and  God  would  take 
?are  of  the  families  of  those  who  went  forth  to  defend 
the  righteous  cause  of  their  country.  Sometimes  we 
wondered  that  she  did  not  mention  the  cold  weather, 
or  our  short  meals,  or  her  hard  work,  that  we  little 
ones  might  be  clothed,  and  fed,  and  taught.  But  she 
would  not  weaken  his  hands,  or  sadden  his  heart,  for 
she  said  a  soldier's  life  was  harder  than  all.  We  saw 
that  she  never  complained,  but  always  kept  in  her 
heart  a  sweet  hope,  like  a  well  of  water.  Every  night 
ere  we  slept,  and  every  morning  when  we  arose,  we 
lifted  our  little  hands  for  God's  blessing  on  our  absent 
father,  and  our  endangered  country. 


iifm™'"'"''*"~~«"*'»' 


m  "P" 


26 


WOMAN  AS  A  PIONEER. 


"  How  deeply  the  prayers  from  such  solitary  homes 
and  faithful  hearts  were  mingled  with  the  infant  lib- 
erties of  our  dear  native  land,  we  may  not  know  until 
we  enter  where  we  see  no  more  *  through  a  glass 
darkly,  but  face  to  face.' 

"  Incidents  repeatedly  occurred  during  this  contest 
of  eight  years,  between  the  feeble  colonies  and  the 
strong  mother-land,  of  a  courage  that  ancient  Sj)arta 
would  have  applauded. 

"  In  a  thinly  settled  part  of  Virginia,  the  quiet  of  the 
Sabbath  eve  was  once  broken  by  the  loud,  hurried  roll 
of  the  drum.  Volunteers  were  invoked  to  go  forth 
and  prevent  the  British  troops,  under  the  pitiless 
Tarleton,  from  forcing  their  way  through  an  important 
mountain  pass.  In  an  old  fort  resided  a  family,  all  of 
whose  elder  sons  were  absent  with  our  army,  which  at 
the  north  opposed  the  foe.  The  father  lay  enfeebled 
and  sick.  By  his  bedside  the  mother  called  their 
three  sons,  of  the  ages  of  thirteen,  fifteen,  and  seven- 
teen. 

"'Go  forth,  children,'  said  she,  "to  the  defence  of 
your  native  clime.  Go,  each  and  all  of  you ;  I  spare 
not  my  youngest,  my  fair-h aired  boy,  the  light  of  my 
declining  years. 

" '  Go  forth,  my  sons !  Repel  the  foot  of  the  invad- 
er, or  see  my  face  no  more.' " 

In  order  to  get  a  proper  estimate  of  the  greatness 
of  the  part  which  woman  has  acted  in  the  mighty 
onward-moving  drama  of  civilization  on  this  continent, 
we  must  remember  too  her  peculiar  physical  constitu- 
tion. Her  highly  strung  nervous  organization  and  her 
softness  of  fiber  make  labor  more  severe  and  sufle'ing 
keener.     It  is  an  instinct  with  her  to  tremble  at  dan- 


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AN  ADMIRABLE  CONTRAST. 


27 


it   I 

1 1 

ll 

I 


1\^; 


ger;  her  training  from  girlhood  unfits  her  to  cope 
with  the  difficuhies  of  outdoor  life.  "  Men,"  says  the 
poet,  "must  work,  and  women  must  weep."  But  the 
pioneer  women  must  both  work  and  weep.  The  toils 
and  hardships  of  frontier  life  write  early  wrinkles  upon 
her  brow  and  bow  her  delicate  frame  with  care.  We 
do  not  expect  to  subject  our  little  ones  to  the  toils  or 
dangers  that  belong  to  adults.  Labor  is  pain  to  the 
soft  fibers  and  unknit  limbs  of  childhood,  and  to  the 
impressible  minds  of  the  young,  danger  conveys  a 
thousand  fears  not  felt  by  the  firmer  natures  of  older 
persons.  Hence  it  is  that  all  mankind  admire  youth- 
ful heroism.  The  story  of  Casablanca  on  the  deck  of 
the  burning  ship,  or  of  the  little  wounded  drummer, 
borne  on  the  shoulders  of  a  musketeer  and  still  beat- 
ing the  rappel — while  the  bullets  are  flying  around 
him — thrill  the  heart  of  man  because  these  were  great 
and  heroic  deeds  performed  by  striplings.  It  is  the 
bravery  and  firmness  of  the  weak  that  challenges  the 
highest  admiration.  This  is  woman's  case:  and 
when  w^e  see  her  matching  her  strength  and  courage 
against  those  of  man  in  the  same  cause,  with  equal 
results,  what  can  we  do  but  applaud  ? 

A  European  traveler  lately  visited  the  Territory  of 
Montana — abandoning  the  beaten  trail,  in  company 
only  with  an  Indian  guide,  for  he  was  a  bold  and  fear- 
less explorer.  He  struck  across  the  mountains,  travel- 
ing for  two  days  without  seeing  the  sign  of  a  human 
being.  Just  at  dusk,  on  the  evening  of  the  second 
day,  he  diew  rein  on  the  summit  of  one  of  those  lofty 
hills  which  form  ihe  spurs  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
The  solitude  was  awful.  As  far  as  the  eye  could 
see  stretched  an  unbroken  succession  of  mountain 


f 


28 


WOMAN  AS  A  PIONEER. 


peaks,  bare  of  forest — a  wilderness  of  rocks  with 
stunted  trees  at  their  base,  and  deep  ravines  where  no 
streams  were  running.  In  all  this  desolate  scene  there 
was  no  sign  of  a  living  thing.  While  they  were  teth- 
ering their  horses  and  preparing  for  the  night,  the 
sharp  eyes  of  the  Indian  guide  caught  sight  of  a  gleam 
of  light  at  the  bottom  of  a  deep  gorge  beneath  them. 

Descending  the  declivity,  they  reached  a  cabin 
rudely  built  of  dead  wood,  which  seemed  to  have  been 
brought  down  by  the  spring  rains  from  the  hill-sides  to 
the  west.  Knocking  at  the  door,  it  was  opened  by  a 
woman,  holding  in  her  arms  a  child  of  six  months. 
The  woman  appeared  to  be  fifty  years  of  age,  but  she 
was  in  reality  only  thirty.  Casting  a  searching  look 
upon  the  traveler  and  his  companion,  she  asked  them 
to  enter.  .     , 

The  cabin  was  divided  into  two  apartments,  a 
kitchen,  which  also  served  for  a  store-room,  dining- 
room,  and  sitting-room ;  the  other  was  the  chamber, 
or  rather  bunk-room,  where  the  family  slept.  Five 
children  came  tumbling  out  from  this  latter  apartment 
as  the  traveler  entered,  and  greeted  him  with  a  stare 
of  childlike  curiosity.  The  woman  asked  them  to  be 
seated  on  blocks  of  wood,  which  served  for  chairs,  and 
soon  threw  off  her  reserve  and  told  them  her  story, 
wbile  they  awaited  the  return  of  her  husband  from 
the  nearest  village,  some  thirty  miles  distant,  whither 
he  had  gone  the  day  before  to  dispose  of  the  gold-dust 
which  he  had  "  panned  out "  from  a  gulch  near  by. 
He  was  a  miner.  Four  years  before  he  had  come 
with  his  family  froM  the  East,  and  pushing  on  in 
advance  of  the  main  movement  of  emigration  in  the 
territory,  had  discovered  a  rich  gold  placer  in  this 


A  PIONEER-WIFE'S  STORY. 


29 


lonely  gorge.  While  he  had  been  working  in  this 
placer,  his  wife  had  with  her  own  hands  turned  up 
the  soil  in  the  valley  below  and  raised  all  the  com 
and  potatoes  required  for  the  support  of  the  family ; 
she  had  done  the  housework,  and  had  made  all  the 
clothes  for  the  family.  Once  when  her  husband  was 
sick,  she  had  ridden  thirty  miles  for  medicine.  It 
was  a  dreary  ride,  she  said,  for  the  road,  or  rather 
trail,  was  very  rough,  and  her  husband  was  in  a  burn- 
ing fever.  She  left  him  in  charge  of  her  oldest  child, 
a  girl  of  eleven  years,  but  she  was  a  bright,  helpful 
little  creature,  able  to  wait  upon  the  sick  man  and 
feed  the  other  children  during  the  two  days'  absence 
of  her  mother. 

Next  summer  they  were  to  build  a  house  lower 
down  the  valley  and  would  be  joined  by  three  other 
families  of  their  kindred  from  the  East.  "  Have  you 
never  been  attacked  by  the  Indians  ? "  inquired  the 
traveler. 

"Only  three  times,"  she  replied.  "Once  three 
prowling  red-skins  came  to  the  door,  in  the  night, 
and  asked  for  food.  My  husband  handed  them  a  loaf 
of  bread  through  the  window,  but  they  refused  to  go 
away  and  lurked  in  the  bushes  all  night ;  they  were 
stragglers  from  a.  war-party,  and  wanted  more  scalps. 
I  saw  them  in  the  moonlight,  armed  with  rifles  and 
tomahawks,  and  frightfully  painted.  They  kindled  a 
fire  a  hundred  yards  below  our  cabin  and  stayed  there 
all  night,  as  if  they  were  watching  for  us  to  come  out, 
but  early  in  the  morning  they  disappeared,  and  we 
saw  them  no  more. 

"Another  time,  a  large  war-party  of  Indians  en- 
camped a  mile  below  us,  and  a  dozen  of  them  came 


30 


WOMAN  AS  A  PIONEER. 


up  and  surrounded  the  house.  Then  we  thought  we 
were  lost :  they  amused  themselves  aiming  at  marks 
in  the  logs,  or  at  the  chimney  and  windows ;  we  could 
hear  their  bullets  rattle  against  the  rafters,  and  you 
can  see  the  holes  they  made  in  the  doors.  One  big 
brave  took  a  large  stone  and  was  about  to  dash  it 
against  the  door,  when  my  husband  pointed  his  rifle 
at  him  through  the  window,  and  he  turned  and  ran 
away.  We  should  have  all  been  killed  and  scalped  if 
a  company  of  soldiers  had  not  come  up  the  valley  that 
day  with  an  exploring  party  and  driven  the  red-skins 
away. 

-  "  One  afternoon  as  my  husband  was  at  work  in  the 
diggings,  two  red-skins  came  up  to  him  and  wounded 
him  with  arrows,  but  he  caught  up  his  rifle  and  soon 
made  an  end  of  them.  • 

"When  we  first  came  there  was  no  end  of  bears 
anc^  wolves,  and  we  could  hear  them  howling  all  night 
long.  Winter  nights  the  wolves  would  come  and 
drum  on  the  door  with  their  paws  and  whine  as  if 
they  wanted  to  eat  up  the  children.  Husband  shot 
ten  and  I  shot  six,  and  after  that  we  were  troubled 
no  more  with  them. 

"We  have  no  schools  here,  as  you  see,"  continued 
she ;  "  but  I  have  taught  my  three  oldest  children  to 
read  since  we  came  here,  and  every  Sunday  we  have 
family  prayers.  Husband  reads  a  verse  in  the  Bible, 
and  then  I  and  the  children  read  a  verse  in  turn,  till 
we  finish  a  whole  chapter.  Then  I  make  the  children, 
all  but  baby,  repeat  a  verse  over  and  over  till  they 
have  it  by  heart ;  the  Scripture  promises  do  comfort 
us  all,  even  the  littlest  one  who  can  only  lisp  them. 

"  Sometimes  on  Sunday  morning  I  take  all  the  chil- 


Mr 


. 


SUNDAY  AND  SOLITUDE  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS. 


31 


dren  to  the  top  of  that  hill  yonder  and  look  at  the 
sun  as  it  comes  up  over  the  mountains,  and  I  think 
of  the  old  folks  at  home  and  all  our  friends  in  the 
East  The  hardest  thing  to  bear  is  the  solitude.  We 
are  awful  lonesome.  Once,  for  eighteen  months,  I 
never  saw  the  face  of  a  white  person  except  those  of 
my  husband  and  children.  It  makes  me  laugh  and 
cry  too  when  I  see  a  strange  face.  But  I  am  too 
busy  to  think  much  about  it  daytimes.  I  must  wash, 
and  boil,  and  bake,  or  look  after  the  cows  which  wan- 
der off  in  search  of  pasture ;  or  go  into  the  valley 
and  hoe  the  corn  and  potatoes,  or  cut  the  wood ;  for 
husband  makes  his  ten  or  fifteen  dollars  a  day  panning 
out  dust  up  the  mountain,  and  I  know  that  whenever 
I  want  him  I  have  only  to  blow  the  horn  and  he  will 
come  down  to  me.  So  I  tend  to  business  here  and 
let  him  get  gold.  In  five  or  six  years  we  shall 
have  a  nice  house  farther  down  and  shall  v/ant  for 
nothing.  We  shall  have  a  saw-mill  next  spring  started 
on  the  run  below,  and  folks  are  going  to  join  us  from 
the  States." 

The  woman  who  told  this  story  of  dangers  and 
hardships  amid  the  Rocky  Mountains  was  of  a  slight, 
frail  figure.  She  had  evidently  been  once  possessed 
of  more  than  ordinary  attractions ;  but  the  caics  of 
maternity  and  the  toils  of  frontier  life  had  bowed  her 
delicate  frame  and  engraved  premature  wrinkles  upon 
her  face  :  she  was  old  before  her  time,  but  her  spirit 
was  as  dauntless  and  her  will  to  do  and  dare  for  her 
loved  ones  was  as  firm  as  that  of  any  of  the  heroines 
whom  history  has  made  so  famous.  She  had  been 
reared  in  luxury  in  one  of  the  towns  of  central  New 


32 


WOMAN  AS  A  PIONEER. 


I 


I! 


York,  and  till  she  was  eighteen  years  old  had  never 
known  what  toil  and  trouble  were. 

Her  husband  was  a  true  type  of  the  American 
explorer  and  possessed  in  his  wife  a  fit  companion; 
and  when  he  determined  to  push  his  fortune  among 
the  Western  wilds  she  accompanied  him  cheerfully ; 
already  they  had  accumulated  five  thousand  dollars, 
which  was  safely  deposited  in  t.ie  bank ;  they  were 
rearing  a  band  of  sturdy  little  pioneers;  they  had 
planted  an  outpost  in  a  region  teeming  with  mineral 
wealth,  and  around  them  is  now  growing  up  a  thriv- 
ing village  of  which  this  heroic  couple  are  soon  to  be 
the  patriarchs.  All  honor  to  the  names  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  James  Manning,  the  pioneers  of  Montana. 

The  traveler  and  his  guide,  declining  the  hospitality 
which  this  brave  matron  tendered  them,  soon  returned 
to  their  camp  on  the  hill-top ;  but  the  Englishman 
made  notes  of  the  pioneer  woman's  story,  and  pon- 
dered  over  it,  for  he  saw  in  it  an  epitome  of  frontier 
life. 

If  a  tourist  were  to  pass  to-day  beyond  the  Missis- 
sippi River,  and  journey  over  the  wagon-roads  which 
lead  Westward  towards  the  Rocky  Mountains,  he 
would  see  moving  towards  the  setting  sun  innumer- 
able caravans  of  emigrants'  canvas-covered  wagons, 
bound  for  the  frontier.  In  each  of  these  wagons  is  a 
man,  one  or  two  women  with  children,  agricultural 
tools,  and  household  gear.  At  night  the  horses  or 
oxen  are  tethered  or  turned  loose  on  the  prairie ;  a 
fire  is  kindled  with  buffalo  chips,  or  such  fuel  as  can 
be  had,  and  supper  is  prepared.  A  bed  of  prairie 
grass  suffices  for  the  man,  while  the  women  and  chil- 
dren rest  in  the  covered  wagon.    When  the  morning 


I 


WOMAN'S  MISSION. 


33 


dawns  they  resume  their  "Westward  journey.  "Weeks, 
months,  sometimes,  roll  by  before  the  wagon  reaches 
its  destination ;  but  it  reaches  it  at  last.  Then  begin 
the  struggle,  and  pains,  the  labors,  and  dangers  of  bor- 
der life,  in  all  of  which  woman  bears  her  part.  While 
the  primeval  forest  falls  before  the  stroke  of  the  man- 
pioneer,  his  companion  does  the  duty  of  both  man  and 
woman  at  home.  The  hearthstone  is  laid,  and  the 
rude  cabin  rises.  The  virgin  soil  is  vexed  by  the 
ploughshare  driven  by  the  man;  the  garden  and 
house,  the  dairy  and  barns  are  tended  by  the  woman, 
who  clasps  her  babe  while  she  milks,  and  fodders,  and 
weeds.  Danger  comes  when  the  man  is  away;  the 
woman  must  meet  it  alone.  Famine  comes,  and  the 
woman  must  eke  out  the  slender  store,  scrimping  and 
pinching  for  the  little  ones ;  sickness  comes,  and  the 
woman  must  nurse  and  watch  alone,  and  without  the 
sympathy  of  any  of  her  sex.  Fifty  miles  from  a 
doctor  or  a  friend,  except  her  weary  and  perhaps 
morose  husband,  she  must  keep  strong  under  labor, 
and  be  patient  under  sujffering,  till  death.  And  thus 
the  household,  the  hamlet,  the  village,  the  town,  the 
city,  the  state,  rise  out  of  her  "homely  toils,  and 
destiny  obscure."  Truly  she  is  one  of  the  founders 
of  the  Republic. 


^wS 


11    ' 


CHAPTEE   II. 

THE  FRONTIEB-LINE— WOMAN'S  WORK  IN  FLOODS  AND 

STORMS. 

THE  American  Frontier  has  for  more  than  two 
centuries  been  a  vague  and  variable  term.  In 
1620-21  it  was  a  line  of  forest  which  bounded  the 
infant  colony  at  Plymouth,  a  few  scattered  settlements 
on  the  James  River,  in  Virginia,  and  the  stockade  on 
Manhattan  Island,  where  Holland  had  established  a 
trading-post  destined  to  become  one  day  the  great 
commercial  city  of  the  continent. 

Seventy  years  later,  in  1690,  the  frontier-line  had 
become  greatly  extended.  In  New  England  it  was 
the  forest  which  still  hemmed  in  the  coast  and  river 
settlements :  far  to  the  north  stretched  the  wilderness 
covering  that  tract  of  country  which  now  comprises 
the  states  of  Maine,  New  Hampshire,  and  Vermont. 
In  New  York  the  frontier  was  just  beyond  the  posts 
on  the  Hudson  River ;  and  in  Virginia  life  outs'  ^.e  of 
the  oldest  settlements  was  strictly  "  life  on  the  border." 
The  James,  the  Rappahannock,  and  the  Potomac  Riv- 
ers made  the  Virginia  frontier  a  series  of  long  lines 
approaching  to  a  parallel.  But  the  European  settle- 
ments were  still  sparse,  as  compared  with  the  area  of 
uninhabited  country.  The  villages,  hamlets,  and  single 
homesteads  were  like  little  islands  in  a  wild  green 
waste ;  mere  specks  in  a  vast  expanse  of  wildernesa 
Every  line  beyond  musket- shot  was  a  frontier-line. 

(84) 


THE  FIRST  SETTLEMENTS. 


^ 


Every  settlement,  small  or  large,  was  surrounded  by 
a  dark  circle,  outside  of  which  lurked  starvation,  fear, 
and  danger.  The  sea  and  the  great  rivers  were  peril- 
ous avenues  of  escape  for  those  who  dwelt  thereby, 
but  the  interior  settlements  were  almost  completely 
isolated  and  girt  around  as  if  with  a  wall  built  by 
hostile  forces  to  forbid  access  or  egress. 

The  grand  exodus  of  European  emigrants  from  their 
native  land  to  these  shores,  had  vastly  diminished  by 
the  year  1690,  but  the  westward  movement  from  the 
sea  and  the  rivers  in  America  still  went  forward  with 
scarcely  diminished  impetus :  and  as  the  pioneers 
advanced  and  established  their  outposts  farther  and 
farther  to  the  west,  woman  was,  as  she  had  been  from 
the  landing,  their  companion  on  the  march,  their  aity 
in  the  presence  of  danger,  and  their  efficient  co- 
worker in  establishing  homes  in  the  wilderness. 

The  heroic  enterprises  recorded  in  the  history  of 
man  have  generally  been  remarkable  in  proportion  to 
their  apparent  original  weakness.  This  is  true  in  an 
eminent  degree  of  the  settlement  of  European  colo- 
nies on  the  western  continent.  The  sway  which 
woman's  influence  exercised  in  these  colonial  enter- 
prises is  all  the  more  wonderful  when  we  contemplate 
them  from  this  point  of  view.  Three  feeble  bands  of 
men  and  women; — the  first  at  Jamestown,  Virginia,  in 
1609-1612;  the  second  at  Plymouth,  in  1620;  tho 
third  on  the  Island  of  Manhattan,  in  1624 : — these 
were  the  dim  nuclei  from  which  radiated  those  long 
lines  of  light  which  stretch  to-day  across  a  continent 
and  strike  the  Pacific  ocean.  This  is  a  simile  bor- 
rowed from  astronomy.  To  adopt  the  lanji^uaj^o  of  the 
naturalist,  those  three  little  colonies  were  the  puny 


mr 


36 


WOMAN'S  WORK  IN  FLOODS  AND  STORMS. 


i  I 


germs  which  bore  within  themselves  a  vital  force  vastly 
more  potent  and  wonderful  than  that  which  dwells  in 
the  heart  of  the  gourd  seed,  and  the  acorn  whose 
nascent  swelling  energies  will  lift  huge  boulders  and 
split  the  living  rock  asunder :  vastly  more  potent  be- 
cause it  was  not  the  blind  motions  of  nature  merely, 
but  a  force  at  once  physical,  moral,  and  intellectual. 

These  feeble  bands  of  men  and  women  took  foot- 
hold and  held  themselves  firmly  like  a  hard-pressed 
garrison  waiting  for  re-enforcements.  Re-enforcements 
came,  and  then  they  went  out  from  their  works,  and 
setting  their  faces  westward  moved  slowly  forward. 
The  vanguard  were  men  with  pikes  and  musketoons 
and  axes;  the  rearguard  were  women  who  kept  watch 
and  ward  over  the  household  treasures.  Sometime*? 
in  trying  hours  the  rearguard  ranged  itself  and  fought 
in  the  front  ranks,  falling  back  to  its  old  position  when 
the  crisis  was  past. 

In  order  to  appreciate  the  actual  value  of  woman 
as  a  component  part  of  that  mighty  impulse  which  set 
in  motion,  and  still  impels  the  pioneers  of  our  coun- 
try, we  must  remember  that  she  is  really  the  cohesive 
power  which  cements  society  together ;  that  when  the 
outward  pressure  is  greatest,  the  cohesive  power  is 
strongest ;  that  in  times  of  sore  trial  woman's  native 
traits  of  character  are  intensihed  ;  that  she  hat  greater 
tact,  quicker  perceptions,  more  enduring  patience,  and 
greater  capacity  for  suffering  than  man ;  that  motherly, 
and  wifely,  and  sisterly  love  are  strongest  and  bright- 
est when  trials,  labors,  and  dangers  impend  over  the 
loved  ones. 

We  must  bear  in  mind  too,  that  woman  and  man 
were  possessed  of  the  same  convictions  and  impulses 


RELIGIOUS  FAITH  OF  NEW  ENGLAND  PIONEERS. 


37 


in  their  heroic  enterprise — the  sense  of  duty,  the  spirit 
of  liberty,  the  desire  to  worship  God  after  their  own 
ideas  of  truth,  the  desire  to  possess,  ^^hough  in  a  wil- 
derness, homes  where  no  one  coulu  intrude  or  \.all 
them  vassals ;  and  deep  down  below  all  this,  the  in- 
stincts, the  gifts,  and  motive  power  of  the  most  ener- 
getic race  the  world  has  ever  seen — the  Anglo-Saxon ; 
thus  we  come  to  see  how  in  each  band  of  pioneers  and 
in  each  household  were  centered  that  so!!'d  and  con- 
stant aicving  force  which  made  each  man  a  hero  and 
epj'  V  <ri  a  heroine  in  the  struggle  with  hostile  na- 
ture, wii.ti  savage  man  more  cruel  than  the  storm  or  the 
wild  beasts,  with  solitude  v,-nich  makes  a  desert  in  the 
soul ;  with  famine,  with  pestilence,  that  "  wasteth  at 
noon-day," — a  struggle  which  has  finally  been  victo- 
rious over  all  antagonisms,  and  has  made  us  what  we 
are  in  this  centennial  year  of  our  existence  as  an  in- 
dependent republic. 

Another  powerful  influence  exercised  by  woman  as 
a  pioneer  was  the  influence  of  religion.  The  whole 
nature  certainly^  <)f  the  Puritan  woman  was  transfused 
with  a  deep,  j7'';»  vin;?:,  unwavering  religious  faith.  We 
picture  the:  •  vv*ve,',  mothers,  and  daughters  of  the 
New  England  pj >iU't/s  as  the  saints  described  by  the 
poet, 

"  Tlieir  eyes  are  homes  of  silent  pvaycr." 

How  the  prayers  of  these  good  and  honorable  wo- 
men were  answered  events  have  proved. 

Hardly  had  the  Plymouth  Colony  landed  before  they 
vovv'  QolhC  ".pon  to  battle  with  their  first  foes — the 
coia,  the  \\  iffl,  and  the  stonns  on  the  bleak  New  Eng- 
land coast.  1  uiiiine  came  next,  and  finally  pestilence. 
The  blast  from  the  sea  shook  their  frail  cabins  j  the 


I  < 


38 


WOMAN'S  WOR^  IN  FLOODS  AND  STORMS. 


frost  sealed  the  earth,  and  the  snow  drifted  on  the  pil- 
low of  the  sick  and  dying.  Five  kernels  of  corn  a  day 
were  doled  out  to  such  as  were  in  health,  by  those 
appointed  to  this  duty.  "Woman's  heart  was  full  then, 
but  it  kept  strong  though  it  swelled  to  bursting. 

Within  five  months  from  the  landing  on  the  Rock, 
forty-six  men,  women,  and  children,  or  nearly  one-half 
of  the  Mayjioiver's  passengers  had  perished  of  disease 
and  hardships,  and  the  survivors  t  .^^  the  vessel  that 
brought  them  sail  away  to  the  land  oi  birth.     To 

the  surviving  women  of  that  devotea  ilgrim  band 
this  departure  of  the  Mayjloiver  must  have  added  a 
new  pang  to  the  grief  that  was  already  rending  their 
hearts  after  the  loss  of  so  many  dear  ones  during  that 
fearful  winter.  As  the  vessel  dropped  down  Plymouth 
harbor,  they  watched  it  with  tearful  eyes,  and  when 
they  could  see  it  no  more,  they  turned  calmly  bock  to 
their  heroic  labors. 

Mrs.  Bradford,  Rose  Standish,  and  their  companions 
were  the  original  types  of  women  on  our  American 
frontier.  Nobly,  too,  were  they  seconded  by  the  mat- 
rons and  daughters  in  the  other  infant  colonies.  Who 
can  read  the  letters  of  Margaret  Winthrop,  of  the 
Massachusetts  Colony,  without  recognizing  the  loving, 
devoted  woman  sharing  with  her  noble  husband  the 
toils  and  privations  of  the  wilderness,  in  order  that 
God's  promise  might  be  justified  and  an  empire  built 
on  this  Western  Continent. 

In  her  we  have  a  noble  type  of  the  Puritan  woman 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  representing,  as  she  did, 
a  numerous  class  of  her  sex  in  the  same  condition. 
Reared  in  luxury,  and  surrounded  by  the  allurements 
of  the  superior  social  circle  in  which  she  moved  in  her 


f 


m 


» '-IU  an 


Ic 


MARGARET  WINTHROP. 


39 


•" 


l«fi 


native  England,  she  nevertheless  preferred  a  life  of 
self-denial  with  her  husband  on  the  bleak  shores  where 
the  Puritans  were  struggling  for  existence.  She  had 
fully  prepared  her  mind  for  the  heroic  undertaking. 
She  did  not  overlook  the  trials,  discouragements,  and 
difficulties  of  the  course  she  was  about  to  take.  For 
years  she  had  been  habituated  to  look  forward  to  it  as 
one  of  the  eventualities  of  her  life.  She  was  now 
beyond  the  age  of  romance,  and  cherished  no  golden 
dreams  of  earthly  happiness  to  be  realized  in  that  far- 
off  western  clime. 

Two  traits  are  most  prominent  in  her  letters:  her 
religious  faith,  and  her  love  for  and  trust  in  her  hus- 
band. She  placed  a  high  estimate  on  the  wisdom,  the 
energy,  and  the  talents  of  her  husband,  and  felt  that  he 
could  best  serve  God  and  man  by  helping  to  lay  broad 
and  deep  the  foundations  of  a  new  State,  and  to  secure 
the  present  and  future  prosperity,  both  temporal  and 
epiritual.  of  the  colony.  With  admiration  and  esteem 
she  blended  the  ardent  but  balanced  fondness  of  the 
loving  wife  and  the  sedate  matron.  In  no  less  degree 
do  her  letters  show  the  power  and  attractiveness  of 
gemiine  religion.  The  sanctity  of  conjugal  affection 
tallies  with  and  is  hallowed  by  the  Spirit  of  Grace. 
The  sense  of  duty  is  harmoniously  mingled  with  the 
impulses  of  the  heart.  That  religion  was  the  domi- 
nant principle  of  thought  and  action  with  Margaret 
Winthrop,  no  one  can  doubt  who  reflects  how  se- 
verely it  was  tested  in  the  trying  3nterprise  of  her 
life.  A  sincere,  deep,  and  healthful  piety  formed  in 
her  a  sprinjr  of  energy  to  great  and  noble  actions. 

There  are  glimpses  in  the  correspondence  between 
her  and  her  husband  of  a  kind  of  prophetic  vision, 


40 


WOMAN'S  WORK  IN  FLOODS  AND  STORMS. 


r\ 


that  the  planting  of  that  colony  was  the  laying  of  one 
of  the  foundation-stones  of  a  great  empire.  May  we 
not  suppose  that  by  the  contemplation  of  such  a  vision 
she  was  buoyed  up  and  soothed  amid  the  many  trials 
and  privations,  perils  and  uncertainties  that  surroimd- 
ed  her  in  that  rugged  colonial  life. 

The  influence  of  Puritanism  to  inspire  with  uncon- 
querable principle,  to  infuse  public  spirit,  to  purify  the 
character  from  frivolity  and  feebleness,  to  lift  the  soul 
to  an  all-en9liring  heroism  and  to  exalt  it  to  a  lofty 
standard  .of  Christian  excellence,  is  grandly  illustrated 
by  the  life  of  Margaret  Winthrop,  one  of  the  pioneer- 
matrons  of  the  Massachusetts  colony. 

The  narrations  which  we  set  forth  in  this  book  must 
of  course  be  largely  concerning  families  and  individuals. 
The  outposts  of  the  advancing  army  of  settlement 
were  most  exposed  to  the  dangers  and  hardships  of 
frontier  life.  Every  town  or  village,  as  soon  as  it  was 
settled,  became  a  garrison  against  attack  "ind  a  mutual 
Benefit-Aid-Society,  leagued  together  against  every 
enerr^-'.  fhat  threatened  the  infant  settlement ;  it  was 
also  a  place  of  refuge  for  the  bolder  pioneers  who  had 
pushed  farther  out  into  the  forest. 

But  as  time  rolled  on  many  of  these  more  adventur- 
ous settlers  found  themselves  isolated  from  the  villages 
and  stockades.  Every  hostile  influence  they  had  to 
meet  alone  and  unaided.  Cold  and  storm,  fire  and 
flood,  hunger  and  sickness,  savage  man  and  savage 
beast,  these  were  the  foes  with  which  they  had  to  con- 
tend. The  battle  was  going  on  all  the  time  while  the 
pioneer  and  his  wife  were  subjugating  the  forest, 
breaking  the  soil,  and  gaining  shelter  and  food  lor 
themselves  and  their  children. 


f 


Ktt^'- 


MRS.  SHUTE'S  ADVENTURE. 


^,. 


41 


*. 


It  is  easy  to  see  what  were  the  added  pains,  priva- 
tions, and  hardships  of  such  a  situation  to  the  mind 
and  heart  of  woman,  craving,  as  she  does,  companion- 
ship and  sympathy  from  her  own  sex.  It  is  a  consol- 
ing reflection  to  us  who  are  reaping  the  fruits  of  her 
self-sacrifice  that  the  very  multiplicity  of  her  toils  and 
cares  gave  her  less  time  for  brooding  over  her  hard 
and  lonely  lot,  and  that  she  found  in  her  religious  faith 
and  hope  a  constant  fountain  of  comfort  and  joy. 

One  of  the  greatest  hardships  endured  by  the  first 
settlers  in  New  England  was  the  rigorous  and  change- 
able climate,  which*  bore  most  severely,  of  course,  on 
the  weaker  sex.  This  makes  the  fortitude  of  Mrs. 
Shute  all  the  more  admirable.  Her  story  is  only  one 
of  innumerable  instances  in  early  colonial  life  where 
wives  were  the  preservers  of  their  husbands. 

In  the  spring  of  1676,  James  Shute,  with  his  wife 
and  two  small  children,  set  out  ^om  Dorchester  for  the 
purpose  of  settling  themselves  on  a  tract  of  land  in 
the  southern  part  of  what  is  now  New  Hampshire,  but 
,vhich  then  was  an  unbroken  forest.  The  tract  where 
they  purposed  making  their  home  was  a  meadow  on  a 
small  affluent  of  the  Connecticut. 

Taking  their  household  goods  and  farming  tools  in 
an  ox-cart  drawn  by  four  oxen  and  driving  two  cows 
before  them,  they  reached  their  destination  after  a 
toilsome  journey  of  ten  days.  The  summer  was  spent 
in  building  their  cabin,  and  outhouses,  planting  and 
tending  the  crop  of  Indian  corn  which  was  to  be  their 
winter's  food,  and  in  cutting  the  coarse  meadow-grass 
for  hay. 

Late  in  October  they  found  themselves  destitute  of 
many  articles  which  even  in  those  days  of  primitive 


Ill 


42 


WOMAN'S  WORK  IN  FLOODS  AND  STORAfS. 


V. 

1 1 


housewifery  and  husbandry,  were  considered  of  prime 
necessity.  Accordingly,  the  husband  started  on  foot 
for  a  small  trading-post  on  the  Connecticut  River, 
about  ten  miles  distant,  at  which  point  he  expected  to 
find  some  trading  shallop  or  skiff  to  take  him  to  Spring- 
field, thirty-eight  miles  further  south.  The  weather 
was  fine  and  at  nightfall  Shute  had  reached  the  river, 
and  before  sunrise  the  next  morning  was  floating  down 
the  stream  on  an  Indian  trader's  skiff. 

Within  two  days  he  made  his  purchases,  and  hiring  a 
skiff  rowed  slowly  up  the  river  against  the  sluggish 
current  on  his  return.  In  twelve  hours  he  reached 
the  trading-post.  It  was  now  late  in  the  evening. 
The  sky  had  been  lowering  all  day,  and  by  dusk  it  be- 
gan to  snow.  Disregarding  the  admonitions  of  the 
traders,  he  left  his  goods  under  their  care  and  struck 
out  boldly  through  the  forest  over  the  trail  by  which 
he  came,  trusting  to  be  able  to  find  his  way,  as  the 
moon  had  risen,  and  the  clouds  seemed  to  be  breaking. 
The  trail  lay  along  the  stream  on  which  his  farm  was 
situated,  and  four  hours  at  an  easy  gait  would,  he 
thought,  bring  him  home. 

The  snow  when  he  started  from  the  river  was  already 
nearly  a  foot  deep,  and  before  he  had  proceeded  a  mile 
on  his  way  the  storm  redoubled  in  violence,  and  the 
snow  fell  faster  and  faster.  At  midnight  he  had  only 
made  five  miles,  and  the  snow  was  two  feet  deep. 
After  trying  in  vain  to  kinc'e  a  fire  by  the  aid  of  flint 
and  steel,  he  prayed  fervently  to  God,  and  resuming 
his  journey  struggled  slowly  on  through  the  storm. 
It  had  been  agreed  between  his  wife  and  himself  that 
on  the  evening  of  this  day  on  which  he  told  her  he 
should  return,  he  would  kindle  a  fire  on  a  knoll  about 


f 


/■»  , 


A  DEVOTED  WIFE. 


43 


two  miles  from  his  cabin  as  a  beacon  to  assure  his  wife 
of  his  safety  and  announce  his  approach. 

Suddenly  he  saw  a  glare  in  the  sky. 

During  his  absence  his  wife  had  tended  the  cattle, 
milked  the  cows,  cut  the  firewood,  and  fed  the  chil- 
dren. When  night  came  she  barricaded  the  door,  and 
saying  a  prayer,  folded  her  little  ones  in  her  arms  and 
lay  down  to  rest.  Three  suns  had  risen  and  set  since 
she  saw  her  husband  with  gun  on  his  shoulder  disap- 
pear through  the  clearing  into  the  dense  undergrowth 
which  fringed  the  bank  of  the  stream,  and  when  the 
appointed  evening  came,  she  seated  herself  at  ua3  nar- 
row window,  or,  more  properly,  opening  in  the  logs 
of  which  the  cabin  was  built,  and  watched  for  the  bea- 
con which  her  husband  was  to  kindle.  She  looked 
through  the  falling  snow  but  could  see  no  light.  Lit- 
tle drifts  sifted  through  the  chinks  in  the  roof  upon 
the  bed  where  her  children  lay  asleep ;  the  night  grew 
darker,  and  now  and  then  the  howling  of  the  wolves 
could  be  heard  from  the  woods  to  the  north. 

Seven  o'clock  struck — eight — nine — by  the  old 
Dutch  clock  which  ticked  in  the  corner.  Then  her 
woman's  instinct  told  her  that  her  husband  must  have 
started  and  been  overtaken  by  the  storm.  If  she 
could  reach  the  knoll  and  kindle  the  fire  it  would  light 
him  on  his  way.  She  quickly  collected  a  small  bun- 
dle of  dry  wood  in  her  apron  and  taking  flint,  steel, 
and  tinder,  started  for  the  knoll.  In  an  hour,  after  a 
toilsome  march,  floundering  through  the  snow,  she 
reached  the  spot.  A  large  pile  of  dry  wood  had  al- 
ready been  collected  by  her  husband  and  was  ready 
for  lighting,  and  in  a  few  moments  the  heroic  woman 
was  warming  her  shivering  limbs  before  a  fire  which 


1 

f 

ii  i' 

f 

ill 


44 


Tr03/JiV5  IFO/^A-  /iV  FLOODS  AND  STORMS. 


blazed  far  up  through  the  crackling  branches  p.nd 
lighted  the  forest  around  it. 

For  more  than  two  hours  the  devoted  woman 
watched  beside  the  fire,  straining  her  eyes  into  the 
gloom  and  catching  every  sound.  Wading  through 
the  snow  she  brought  branches  and  logs  to  replenish 
the  flames.  At  last  her  patience  was  rewarded :  she 
heard  a  cry,  to  which  she  responded.  It  was  the  voice 
of  her  husband  which  she  heard,  shouting.  In  a  few 
moments  he  came  up  staggering  through  the  drifts, 
and  fell  exhausted  before  the  fire.  The  snow  soon 
ceased  to  fall,  and  after  resting  till  morning,  the  res- 
cued pioneer  and  his  brave  wife  returned  in  safety  to 
their  cabin. 

Mrs.  Frank  Noble,  in  1664,  proved  herself  worthy 
of  her  surname.  She  and  her  husband,  with  four 
small  children,  had  established  themselves  in  a  log- 
cabin  eight  miles  from  a  settlement  in  New  Hampshire, 
and  now  known  as  the  town  of  Dover. 

Their  crops  having  turned  out  poorly  that  autumn, 
they  were  constrained  to  put  themselves  on  short  allow- 
ance, owing  to  the  depth  of  the  snow  and  the  distance 
from  the  settlement.  As  long  as  Mr.  Noble  was  well,  he 
was  able  to  procure  game  and  kept  their  larder  tolerably 
well  stocked.  But  in  mid-winter,  being  naturally  of  a 
delicate  habit  of  body,  he  sickened,  and  in  two  weeks, 
in  spite  of  the  nursing  and  tireless  care  of  his  devoted 
wife,  he  died.  The  snow  was  six  feet  deep,  and  only 
a  peck  of  musty  corn  and  a  bushel  of  potatoes  were 
left  as  their  winter  supply.  The  fuel  also  was  short, 
and  most  of  the  time  Mrs.  Noble  could  only  keep  her- 
self and  her  children  warm  by  huddling  in  the  bed- 
clothes on  bundles  of  straw,  in  the  loft  which  served 


^'iiimm 


iiip 


'«*!»' 

(*•■?■ 


A  LUCKY  SHOT. 


^m 


them  for  a  sleeping  room.  Below  lay  the  corpse  of 
Mr.  Noble,  frozen  stiff  Famine  and  death  stared  them 
in  the  face.  Two  weeks  passed  and  the  supply  of  pro- 
visions was  half  gone.  The  heroic  woman  had  tried 
to  eke  out  her  slender  store,  but  the  cries  of  her  chil- 
dren were  so  piteous  with  hunger  that  while  she 
denied  herself,  she  gave  her  own  portion  to  her  babes, 
lulled  them  to  sleep,  and  then  sent  up  her  petitions  to 
Him  who  keeps  the  widow  and  the  fatherless.  She 
prayed,  we  may  suppose,  from  her  heart,  for  deliver- 
ance from  her  sore  straits  for  food,  for  warmth,  for  the 
spring  to  come  and  the  snow  to  melt,  so  that  she 
might  lay  away  the  remains  of  her  husband  beneath 
the  sod  of  the  little  clearing. 

Ev^  morning  when  she  awoke,  she  looked  out 
from  ,/indow  of  the  loft.  Nothing  was  to  be  seen 
but  the  white  surface  of  the  snow  stretching  away  into 
the  forest.  One  day  the  sun  shone  down  warmly  on 
the  snow  and  melted  its  surface,  and  the  next  morn- 
ing there  was  a  crust  which  would  bear  her  weight. 
She  stepped  out  upon  it  and  looked  around  her.  She 
would  then  have  walked  eight  miles  to  the  settlement 
but  she  was  worn  out  with  anxiety  and  watching,  and 
was  weak  from  want  of  food.  As  she  gazed  wistfully 
toward  the  east,  her  ears  caught  the  sound  of  a  crash- 
ing among  the  boughs  of  the  forest  She  looked  to- 
ward the  spot  from  which  it  came  and  saw  a  dark 
object  floundering  in  the  snow.  Looking  more  closely 
she  saw  it  was  a  moose,  with  its  horns  entangled  in 
the  branches  of  a  hemlock  and  buried  to  its  flanks  in 
the  snow. 

Hastening  back  to  the  cabin  she  seized  her  hus- 
band's gun,  and  loading  it  with  buckshot,  hurried  out 


m 


em 


i;»» 


I 


46 


WOMAN'S  WORK  IN  FLOODS  AND  STORM'- 


and  killed  the  monstrous  brute.  Skilled  in  wood- 
craft, like  most  pioneer  women,  she  skinned  the 
animal  and  cutting  it  up  bore  the  T)iece8  to  the  cabin. 
Her  first  thought  then  was  of  her  children,  and  after 
she  had  given  them  a  hearty  med  of  the  tender 
moose-flesh  she  partook  of  it  herself,  and  then,  re- 
freshed and  strengthened,  she  took  tiie  axe  and' cut 
a  fresh  supply  of  fuel.  During  the  day  a  party  came 
out  from  the  settlement  and  supplied  the  wants  of  the 
stricken  household.  The  body  of  the  dead  husband 
was  borne  to  the  settlement  and  laid  in  the  graveyard 
beneath  the  snow. 

Nothing  daunted  by  this  terrible  experience,  thia 
heroic  woman  kept  her  frontier  cabin  and,  with  friendl,\ 
..id  from  the  settlers,  continued  to  till  her  farm.  In 
Len  years,  when  her  oldest  boy  had  become  a  man,  he 
and  his  brothers  tilled  two  hundred  acres  cf  meadow 
land,  most  of  it  redeemed  from  the  wilderness  by  the 
skill,  strength,  and  industry  of  their  noble  mother. 

,  The  spring  season  n.  ist  have  been  to  the  early 
settlers,  particularly  to  the  women,  even  more  trying 
than  the  winter.  In  the  latter  season,  except  after 
extraordinary  falls  of  snow,  transit  from  place  to  place 
was  made  by  means  of  sledges  over  the  snow  or  on 
ox-carte  over  the  frozen  ground.  Traveling  could  also 
be  done  across  or  up  and  down  rivers  on  the  ice,  and  as 
bridges  were  rare  in  those  days  the  crossing  of  rivers 
on  the  ice  was  much  to  be  preferred  to  fording  them  in 
other  seasons  of  the  3;  ear.  Fuel  too  was  more  easily 
obtained  in  the  winter  than  in  the  spring,  and  as  roads 
were  generally  little  more  than  passaf  e-ways  or  cow- 
le  meadows  or  the  woods,  the 


paths 


igh 


^pth 


i- 


ci' 


'1 


of  the  mud  was  often  such  as  to  form  a  barrier  to  the 


r< 


a 


'     DANGERS  AND  DISCOMFORTS. 

locomotion  of  the  heavy  vehicles  of  the  period  or 
even  to  prevent  travel  on  horseback  or  on  foot. 

Other  dangers  and  hardships  in  the  spring  of  the 
year  were  the  freshets  and  floods  to  which  the  river 
dwellers  were  exposed.  Woman,  be  it  remembered, 
is  naturally  as  alien  to  water  as  a  mountain  fowl, 
which  flies  over  a  stream  for  fear  of  wetting  its  feet 
"We  can  imagine  the  discomfort  to  which  a  family  of 
women  and  children  were  exposed  who  lived,  for  exam- 
ple, on  the  banks  of  the  Connecticut  in  the  olden 
time.  In  some  seasons  families  were,  as  they  now 
are,  driven  to  the  upper  stories  of  their  houses  by  the 
overflow  of  the  river.  But  it  should  be  remembered 
that  the  houses  of  tho!?c  day^^  were  not  the  firm,  well- 
built  structures  of  modern  times.  Sometimes  the 
settler  found  himself  and  family  floating  slowly  down 
stream,  cabin  and  all,  borne  along  by  the  freshet 
caused  by  a  sudden  thaw :  as  long  as  his  cabin  held 
together,  the  family  had  always  hopes  of  grounding 
as  the  flood  subsided  and  saving  their  lives  though 
with  much  loss  of  property,  besides  the  discomfort  if 
not  positive  Hanger  to  which  they  had  been  exposed. 

But  sometiiiies  the  flood  was  so  sudden  and  violent 
that  the  cabin  would  be  submerged  or  break  to  pieces, 
and  float  away,  drowning  some  or  ali  of  the  family. 
It  might  be  supposed  that  the  married  portion  of  the 
pioneers  would  select  other  sites  than  on  the  borders 
of  a  large  river  subject  every  year  to  overflow,  but 
the  richness  of  the  alluvial  soil  on  the  banks  of  the 
Connecticut  was  j?o  tempting  that  other  conaiderationa 
were  overlooked,  and  to  no  part  of  New  England  was 
the  tide  of  emigration  turned  so  strongly  as  to  the 
Connecticut  Valley.  


I 


48 


WOMAN'S  WORK  IN  FLOODS  AND  STORMS. 


V  ' 


I  I 
I  * 


In  the  year  1643,  an  adventurous  fariily  of  eight 
persons  embarked  on  a  shallop  from  Hartford  (to 
which  place  they  had  come  shortly  before  from  Water- 
town,  Mass.),  and  sailing  or  rowing  up  the  river  made 
a  landing  on  a  beautiful  meadow  near  the  modern 
town  of  Hatfield. 

The  family  consisted  of  Peter  Nash  and  Hannah 
his  wife,  David,  their  son,  a  youth  of  seventeen, 
Deborah  and  Mehitabel,  their  two  daughters,  aged 
respectively  nineteen  and  fourteen,  Mrs.  Elizabeth 
Nash,  the  mother  of  Peter,  aged  sixty-four,  and  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Jacob  Nash.  They  found  the  land  all  ready 
for  ploughing,  and  after  building  a  spacious  cabin  and 
barns,  they  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  plant  and 
harvest  their  crops  and  stock  their  farm  with  cattlft 
which  they  brought  from  Springfield,  driving  them 
up  along  the  river.  For  four  years  everything  went 
on  prosperously.  They  harvested  large  crops,  added 
to  their  barns,  and  had  a  great  increase  in  stock* 
Although  the  wolves  and  wild  cats  had  made  an 
occasional  foray  in  their  stock  and  poultry  yard  and 
tb'  spring  freshets  had  made  inroads  into  their  finest 
meadow,  their  general  course  had  been  only  one  of 
prosperity. 

Their  house  and  barns  were  built  upon  a  tongue  of 
land  where  the  river  made  a  bend,  and  were  on  higher 
ground  than  the  surrounding  meadow,  which  every 
spring  was  submerged  by  the  freshets.  Year  after 
year  the  force  of  the  waters  had  washed  an  angle 
into  this  tongue  of  land  and  threatened  some  time  to 
break  through  and  leave  the  houses  and  barns  of  the 
pioneers  upon  an  island.  But  the  inroads  of  the 
waters  were  gradual,  and  the  Nashes  flattered  them- 


1  r 


THE  NASH  FAMILY  Z.V  PERFL. 


49 


i 


selves  that  it  would  be  .at  least  two  generations  before 
the  river  would  break  through. 

Mrs.  Peter  Nash  and  her  daughter  were  women  of 
almost  masculine  courage  and  firmness.  They  all 
handled  axe  and  gun  as  skilfully  as  the  men  of  the 
household;  they  could  row  a  boat,  ride  horseback, 
swim,  and  drag  a  seine  for  shad ;  and  Mehitabel,  the 
younger  daughter,  though  only  fourteen  years  old, 
was  already  a  woman  of  more  than  ordinary  size  and 
strength.  These  three  women  accompanied  the  men 
on  their  hunting  and  fishing  excursions  and  assisted 
them  in  hoeing  corn,  in  felling  tre^s,  and  dragging 
home  fuel  and  timber. 

The  winter  of  1647-8  was  memorable  for  the 
amount  of  snow  that  fell,  and  the  spring  for  its  late- 
ness. The  sun  made  some  impression  on  the  snow  in 
March,  but  it  was  not  till  early  in  April  that  a  decided 
change  came  in  the  temperature.  One  morning  the 
wind  shifted  to  the  southwest,  the  sun  was  as  hot  as 
in  June ;  before  night  it  came  on  to  rain,  and,  before 
the  following  night,  nearly  the  whole  vast  body  of 
snow  had  been  dissolved  into  water  which  had  swelled 
all  the  streams  to  an  unprecedented  height.  The 
streams  poured  down  into  the  groat  river,  which  rose 
with  fearful  rapidity,  converting  all  the  alluvial  mead- 
ows into  a  vast  lake. 

All  this  took  place  so  suddenly  that  the  Nash  family 
had  scarcely  a  warning  till  they  found  themselves  in 
the  midst  of  perils.  When  the  rain  ceased,  on  the 
evening  of  the  second  day,  the  water  had  flooded  the 
surrounding  meadows  and  risen  high  up  into  the  first 
story  of  their  house.  The  force  of  the  cunent  had 
already  torn  a  channel  across  the  tongue  of  land  on 


4 


50 


WOMAN'S  WORK  IN  FLOODS  AND  STORMS. 


which  the  house  stood  and  had  washed  away  the  barns 
and  live-stock.  One  of  their  tM^o  boats  had  been 
floated  off  but  had  struck  broadside  against  a  clump 
of  bushes  and  was  kept  in  its  place  by  the  force  of 
the  current.  The  other  boat  had  been  fastened  by  a 
short  rope  to  a  stout  sapling,  but  this  latter  boat  was 
ten  feet  under  water,  held  down  by  the  rope. 

The  water  had  now  risen  to  the  upper  story,  and 
the  family  were  driven  to  the  roof  If  the  house 
would  stand  they  might  yet  be  saved.  It  was  firmly 
built  but  it  shook  with  the  force  and  weight  of  the 
waters.  If  either  of  the  boats  could  bo  secured  they 
might  reach  dry  land  by  rowing  out  of  the  current 
and  over  the  meadows  where  the  water  was  stiller 
The  oars  of  the  submerged  boat  had  been  floated 
away,  but  in  the  other  boat  they  could  be  seen  from 
the  roof  of  the  house  lying  safely  on  the  bottom. 

It  was  decided  that  Jacob  Nash  should  swim  c  at 
and  row  the  boat  up  to  the  house.  He  was  a  strong 
swimmer,  and  though  the  water  v^as  icy  cold  it  was 
thought  the  swift  current  would  soon  enable  him  to 
reach  the  skiff  which  lay  only  a  few  rods  below  the 
house.  Accordingly,  he  struck  boldly  out,  and  in  a 
moment  had  readied  the  boat,  when  ho  suddenly 
threw  up  his  hands  and  sank,  the  current  whirling 
him  out  of  sight  in  an  instant,  amid  the  shrieks  of  his 
young  wife,  who  was  then  a  nursing  mother  and  hold* 
ing  her  babe  in  her  arms  as  her  husband  went  down. 
Mrs.  Nash,  the  elder,  gazed  for  a  moment  speechless 
at  the  spot  where  her  son  had  sunk,  and  then  fell 
upon  her  knees,  the  whole  family  following  her  ex- 
ample, and  prayed  fervently  to  Almighty  God  for 
deliverance  from  their  awful  danger.     Then  rising 


i 


.- 


\ 


r  t 


5'irO  BRAVE  AND  FEARLESS  GIRLS. 


61 


from  her  kneeling  posture,  sht;  bade  her  other  son 
make  one  more  trial  to  reach  the  boat. 

Peter  Nash  and  his  son  Daniel  then  plunged  into 
the  water,  reached  the  boat,  ana  took  the  oars,  but  the 
force  of  the  current  was  such  that  they  could  make,  by 
rowing,  but  little  headway  against  it.  The  two  daugh- 
ters then  leaped  into  the  flood,  and  in  a  few  strokes 
reached  and  entered  the  boat.  By  their  united  force 
it  was  brought  up  and  safely  moored  to  the  chimney 
of  the  cabin.  In  two  trips  the  family  were  conveyed 
to  the  hillside.  Then  the  brave  girls  returned  and 
brought  away  a  boat-load  of  household  gear.  Not 
content  with  that  they  rowed  to  the  submerged 
boat,  and  diving  down,  cut  the  rope,  baled  out  the 
water,  and  in  company  with  their  mother,  father,  and 
brother,  brought  away  all  the  moveables  in  the  upper 
stories  of  the  house.  Their  courage  appeared  to  have 
been  rewarded  in  another  way,  since  the  house  stood 
through  the  flood,  and  in  ten  days  they  were  assistinfj 
to  tear  down  the  house  and  build  another  on  a  hill 
where  the  floods  never  came. 

As  soldiers  fall  in  battle,  so  in  the  struggles  and 
hardships  of  border  life,  the  delicate  frame  of  woman 
often  succumbs,  leaving  the  partner  of  her  toils 
to  mourn  her  loss  and  meet  the  onset  of  life  alone. 
Such  a  loss  necessarily  implies  more  than  when  it  oc- 
curs in  the  comfortable  homes  of  refined  life,  since  it 
removes  at  once  a  loving  wife,  a  companion  in  soli- 
tude, and  an  efficient  co-worker  in  the  severe  tasks 
incident  to  life  in  frontier  settlements.  Sometimes 
the  husband's  career  is  broken  off  when  ho  loses  his 
wife  under  such  circumstances,  and  he  gives  up  both 
hope  and  effort. 


u 


I 


li 


'X,. 


52 


WOMAN'S  WORK  IN  FLOODS  AND  STORMS. 


/"« 


About  sixty  years  since,  and  while  the  rich  prairies 
of  Indiana  began  to  be  viewed  as  the  promised  land  of 
the  adventurous  pioneer,  among  the  emigrants  who 
were  attracted  thither  by  the  golden  dreams  of  hap- 
piness and  fortune,  was  a  Mr.  H.,  a  young  man  from  an 
eastern  city,  who  came  accompanied  by  his  newly  mar- 
ried wife,  a  dark-eyed  girl  of  nineteen.  Leaving  his 
bride  at  one  of  the  westernmost  frontier-settlements, 
he  pushed  on  in  search  of  a  favorable  location  for  their 
new  home.  Near  the  present  town  of  LaFayette  he 
found  a  tract  which  pleased  his  eye  and  promised 
abundant  harvests,  and  after  his  wife  had  been  brought 
to  view  it  and  expressed  her  satisfaction  and  delight 
at  the  happy  choice  he  had  made,  the  site  was  selected 
and  the  house  was  built. 

They  moved  into  their  prairie-home  in  the  first  flush 
of  summer.  Their  cabin  was  built  upon  a  knoll  and 
faced  the  south.  Sitting  at  the  door  at  eventide  they 
contemplated  a  prospect  of  unrivaled  beauty.  The 
sun-bright  soil  remained  still  in  its  primeval  greatness 
and  magnificence,  unchecked  by  human  hands,  cov- 
ered with  flowers,  protected  and  watched  by  the  eye 
of  the  sun.  The  days  were  glorious ;  the  sky  of  the 
brightest  blue,  the  sun  of  the  purest  gold,  and  the  air 
full  of  vitality,  but  calm ;  and  there,  in  that  brilliant 
light,  stretched  itself  far,  far  out  into  the  infinite,  as 
far  as  the  eye  could  discern,  an  ocean-like  extent,  the 
waves  of  which  were  sunflowers,  asters,  and  gentians, 
nodding  and  beckoning  in  the  wind,  as  if  inviting  mil- 
lions of  beings  to  the  festival  set  out  on  the  rich  table 
of  the  earth.  Mrs.  H.  was  an  impressible  woman  with 
poetic  tastes,  and  a  strong  admiration  for  the  beautiful 
in  nature ;   and  as  she  gazed  upon  the  glorious  ex- 


^       STORMS  ON  THE  PRAIRIES. 


53 


panse  her  whole  face  lighted  up  and  glowed  with 
pleasure.  Here  she  thought  was  the  paradise  of 
which  she  had  long  dreamed. 

As  the  summer  advanced  a  plenteous  harvest  prom- 
ised to  reward  the  labors  of  her  husband.  Nature 
was  bounteous  and  smiling  in  all  her  aspects,  and  the 
young  wife  toiled  faithfully  and  patiently  to  make  her 
rough  house  a  pleasant  home  for  her  husband.  She 
had  been  reared  like  him  amid  the  luxuries  of  an 
eastern  city,  and  her  hands  had  never  been  trained  to 
work.  But  the  influences  of  nature  around  her,  and 
the  almost  idolatrous  love  which  she  cherished  for  her 
husband,  cheered  and  sweetened  the  homely  toils  of 
her  prairie  life. 

Eight  months  sped  happily  and  prosperously  away ; 
the  winter  had  been  mild,  and  open,  and  spring  had 
come  with  its  temperate  breezes,  telling  of  another 
summer  of  brightness  and  beauty. 

Soon  after  the  middle  of  April  in  that  year,  com- 
menced an  extraordinary  series  of  storms.  They  oc- 
curred daily,  and  sometimes  twice  a  day,  accompanied 
by  the  most  vivid  lightning,  and  awful  peals  of  thun- 
der ;  the  rain  poured  down  in  a  deluge  until  it  seemed 
as  if  another  flood  was  coming  to  purify  the  earth. 
For  more  than  sixty  days  those  terrible  scenes  re- 
curred, and  blighted  the  whole  face  of  the  country  for 
miles  around  the  lonely  cabin.  The  prairies,  satu- 
rated with  moisture,  refused  any  longer  to  drink  up 
the  showers.  Every  hollow  and  even  the  slightest 
depression  became  a  stagnant  pool,  and  when  the  rains 
ceased  and  the  sun  came  out  with  the  heat  of  the 
summer  solstice,  it  engendered  pestilence,  which  rose 
from  the  green  plain  that  smiled  beneath  him,  and 


54 


WOMAN'S  WORK  IN  FLOODS  AND  STORifS. 


stalked  resistless  among  the  dwellers  throughout  that 
vast  expanse. 

Of  all  the  widely  isolated  and  remote  cabins  which 
sent  their  smoke  curling  into  the  dank  morning  air  of 
the  region  thereabouts,  there  was  not  one  in  which 
disease  was  not  already  raging  with  fearful  malignity. 
Doctors  or  hired  nurses  there  were  none ;  each  stricken 
household  was  forced  to  battle  single-handed  with  the 
destroyer  who  dealt  his  blows  stealthily,  suddenly,  and 
alas !  too  often,  effectually.     The  news  of  the  dreadful 

visitation  soon  reached  the  family  of  Mr.  H and 

for  a  period  they  were  in  a  fearful  suspense.  They 
were  surrounded  by  the  same  malarial  influences  that 
had  made  such  havoc  among  their  neighbors,  and  why 
should  they  escape  ?  They  were  living  directly  over 
a  noisome  cess-pool ;  their  cellar  was  filled  with  water 
which  could  not  be  drained  away,  nor  would  the  satu- 
rated earth  drink  it  up.  Centuries  of  vegetable  accu- 
mulations forming  the  rich  mould  in  which  the  cellar 
was  dug,  gave  out  their  emanations  to  the  Avater,  and 
the  fiery  rays  of  the  sun  made  the  mixture  a  decoction 
whose  steams  were  laden  with  death. 

There  was  no  escape  unless  they  abandoned  their 
house,  and  this  they  were  reluctant  to  do,  hoping  that 
the  disease  would  j)ass  by  them.  But  this  was  a  vain 
hope  ;  in  a  few  days  Mr.  II.  was  prostrated  by  the  fever. 
Mrs.  11.  had  preserved  her  courage  and  energy  till 
now,  but  her  impressible  nature  began  to  yield  before 
the  onset  of  this  new  danger.  Her  life  had  been 
sunny  and  care-free  from  a  child ;  her  new  home  hud 
till  recently  been  the  realization  of  her  dreams  of 
happiness  ;  but  the  loss  of  her  husband  would  destroy 
at  once  every  fair  prospect  for  the  future.     All  that  a 


\ 


A  BROKEN  HEART. 


55 


loving  wife  could  do  as  a  nurse  or  watcher  or  doctress, 
was  done  by  her,  but  long  before  her  husband  had 
turned  the  sharp  corner  between  death  and  life,  Mrs. 
H.  was  attacked  and  both  lay  helpless,  dependent  upon 
the  care  of  their  only  hired  man.  Neighbors  whose 
hearts  had  been  made  tender  and  sympathetic  by  their 
own  bereavements,  came  from  their  far-off  cabins  and 
for  several  weeks  watched  beside  their  bedside.  The 
attack  of  the  wife  commenced  with  a  fever  which 
continued  till  after  the  birth  of  her  child.  For  three 
days  longer  she  lingered  in  pain,  sinking  slowly. till 
the  last  great  change  came,  and  Mr.  H.,  now  conva- 
lescent, saw  her  eyes  closed  for  ever. 

The  first  time  he  left  the  house  was  to  follow  the 
remains  of  his  wife  and  child  to  their  last  resting 
place,  beneath  an  arbor  of  boughs  which  her  own 
hands  had  tended.  "We  cannot  describe  the  grief  of 
that  bereaved  husband.  His  very  appearance  was 
that  of  one  who  had  emerged  from  the  tomb.  Sick- 
ness had  blanched  his  dark  face  to  a  ghastly  hue,  and 
drawn  great  furrows  in  his  cheeks,  which  were  immov- 
able, and  as  if  chiseled  in  granite.  During  his  sick- 
ness he  had  seen  little  of  her  before  she  was  stricken 
down,  for  his  mind  was  clouded.  When  the  light  of 
reason  dawned  he  was  faintly  conscious  that  she  lay 
near  him  suffering,  first  from  the  fever,  and  then  from 
woman's  greatest  pain  and  trial,  but  that  he  was  una- 
ble to  soothe  and  comfort  her ;  and  finally  that  her 
last  hours  were  hours  of  intense  agony,  which  he 
could  not  alleviate.  He  was  as  one  in  a  trance;  a 
confused  consciousness  of  his  terrible  loss  slowly  took 
possession  of  him.  When  at  length  his  weakened 
intellect  comprehended  the  truth  with  all  its  sad  sur- 


":-^"^^  .. lu.ujWJiiwijmJwiiiB— 


aSBSD 


56 


WOMAN'S  ADVENTURES  AND  HEROISM. 


rounding,  a  great  cloud  of  desolation  settled  down 
over  his  whole  life. 

That  cloud,  sad  to  say,  never  lifted.  As  he  stood 
by  the  open  grave,  he  lifted  the  lid,  gazed  long  and 
intently  on  that  sweet  pale  face,  bent  and  kissed  the 
marble  brow,  and  as  the  mother  and  child  were  low- 
ered into  the  grave,  he  turned  away  a  broken-hearted 
man. 


:•     S   1 


■  ♦»♦- 


CHAPTEE  III.    • 

EARLY  PIONEERS— WOMAN'S  ADVENTURES  AND  HERGISIVL 

FOR  nearly  one  hundred  years  after  the  settlement 
of  Plymouth,  the  whole  of  the  territory  now 
known  as  the  State  of  Maine  was,  with  the  exception 
of  a  few  settlements  on  the  coast  and  rivers,  a  howling 
wilderness.  From  the  sea  to  Canada  extended  a  vast 
forest,  intersected  with  rapid  streams  and  dotted  with 
numerous  lakes.  While  the  larger  number  of  settlers 
were  disinclined  to  attempt  to  penetrate  this  trackless 
waste,  some  few  hardy  pioneers  dared  to  advance  far 
into  the  unknown  land,  tempted  by  the  abundance  of 
fish  in  the  streams  and  lakes  or  by  the  variety  of  game 
which  was  to  be  found  in  the  forests.  It  was  the  land 
for  hunters  rather  than  for  tillers  of  the  soil,  and  most 
of  its  early  explorers  were  men  who  were  skillful 
marksmen,  and  versed  in  forest  lore.  But  occasionally 
women  joined  these  predatory  expeditions  against  tlie 
denizens  of  the  woods  and  waters. 


.11 


A  MIGHTY  HUNTRESS. 


57 


In  the  history  of  American  settlements  too  little 
credit  has  been  given  to  the  hunter.  He  is  often  the 
first  to  penetrate  the  wilderness ;  he  notes  the  general 
fejitures  of  the  country  as  he  passes  on  his  swift  course ; 
he  ascertains  the  fertility  of  the  soil  and  the  capabili- 
ties of  different  regions;  he  reconnoiters  the  Indian 
tribes,  and  learns  their  habits  and  how  they  are  affect- 
ed towards  the  white  man.  When  he  returns  to  the 
settlements  he  makes  his  report  concerning  the  region 
which  he  has  explored,  and  by  means  of  the  knowl- 
edge thus  obtained  the  permanent  settlers  were  and 
are  enabled  to  push  forward  and  establish  themselves 
in  the  wilderness.  In  the  glory  and  usefulness  of  these 
discoveries  woman  not  unfrequently  shared.  Some  of 
the  most  interesting  narratives  are  those  in  which  she 
was  the  companion  and  coadjutor  of  the  hunter  in  his 
explorations  of  the  trackless  mazes  of  our  American 
forests. 

In  the  year  1072  a  small  party  of  hunters  arrived  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Kennebec  in  two  canoes.  The 
larger  one  of  the  canoes  was  paddled  up  stream  by 
three  men,  the  other  was  propelled  swiftly  forward  by 
a  man  and  a  woman.  Both  were  dressed  in  hunters' 
costume ;  the  woman  in  a  close-fitting  tunic  of  deer- 
skin reaching  to  the  knees,  with  leggins  to  match,  and 
the  man  in  hunting-shirt  and  trowsers  of  the  same 
material.  Edward  Pentry,  for  this  was  the  name  of 
the  man,  was  a  stalwart  Cornishman  who  had  spent 
ten  years  in  hunting  and  exploring  the  American  wil- 
derness. Mrs.  Pontry,  his  wife,  was  of  French  extrac- 
tion, and  l.\ad  passed  most  of  her  life  in  the  settlements 
in  Canada,  where  she  had  met  her  adventurous  hus- 
band on  one  of  his  hunting  expeditions.     She  was  of 


% 


I 


58 


\ 


WOMAN'S  ADVENTURES  AND  HEROISM. 


manly  stature  and  strength,  and  like  her  husband,  was 
a  splendid  shot  and  skillful  fisher.  Both  were  passion- 
ately fond  of  forest  life,  and  perfectly  fearless  of  its 
dangers,  whether  from  savage  man  or  beast. 

It  was  their  purpose  to  explore  thoroughly  the 
region  watered  by  the  upper  Kennebec,  and  to  estab- 
lish a  trading-post  which  would  serve  as  the  headquar- 
ters of  fur-traders,  and  ultimately  open  the  country 
for  settlement.  Their  outfit  was  extremely  simple : 
guns,  traps,  axes,  fishing-gear,  powder,  and  bullets,  &c., 
with  an  assorted  cargo  of  such  trinkets  and  other  arti- 
cles as  the  Indians  desired  in  return  for  peltry. 

In  three  weeks  they  reached  the  head-waters  of  the 
Kennebec,  at  Moosehead  Lake.  There  they  built  a 
large  cabin,  divided  into  two  compartments,  one  of 
which  was  occupied  by  three  of  the  men,  the  other  by 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pentry.  All  of  the  party  were  versed 
in  the  Indian  dialect  of  the  region,  and  as  Mrs.  Pentry 
could  speak  French,  no  trouble  was  anticipated  from 
the  Indians,  who  in  that  part  of  the  country  were 
generally  friendly  to  the  French.  ,> 

The  labors  of  the  men  in  felling  trees  and  shaping 
logs  for  the  cabin,  as  well  as  in  framing  the  structure, 
were  shared  in  by  Mrs.  Pentry,  who  in  addition  did  all 
the  necessary  cooking  and  other  culinary  offices. 
They  decided  to  explore  the  surrounding  country  for 
the  purpose  of  discovering  the  lay  of  the  land  and  the 
haunts  of  game.  No  signs  of  any  Indians  had  yet  been 
seen,  and  it  was  thought  best  that  the  four  men 
should  start,  each  in  a  different  direction,  and  having 
explored  the  neighboring  region  return  to  the  cabin  at 
night,  Mrs.  Pentry  meanwhile  being  left  alone — a  sit- 
uation which  she  did  not  in  the  least  dread.    Accord- 


/•i. 


■>  f 


t 


if 


•II 


A  SUSPICIOUS  SIGN. 


59 


•■ 


ingly,  early  in  the  morning,  after  eating  a  hun-tr's 
breakfast  of  salt  pork,  fried  fish,  and  parched  corn, 
the  quartette  selected  their  several  routes,  and  started, 
taking  good  care  to  mark  their  trail  as  they  went,  that 
they  could  the  more  readily  find  the  way  back. 

It  was  agreed  that  they  should  return  by  sunset, 
which  would  give  them  twelve  good  hours  for  explor- 
ation, as  it  was  the  month  of  July,  and  the  days  were 
long.  After  thiii'  departure  Mrs.  P.  put  things  to 
rights  about  the  house,  and  barring  the  door  against 
intruders,  whether  biped  or  quadruped,  took  her  gun 
and  fishing-tackle  and  went  out  for  a  little  sport  in  the 
woods. 

The  cabin  stood  on  the  border  of  Moosehead  Lake. 
Unloosing  the  canoes,  she  embarked  in  one,  and 
towing  the  othor  i*eliind  her,  rowed  across  a  part  of 
the  lake  which  jutted  in  shore  to  the  southwest ;  she 
soon  reached  a  dense  piece  of  woods  which  skirted 
the  lake,  and  there  mooring  her  canoe,  watched  for 
the  deer  which  came  down  to  that  place  to  drink.  A 
fat  buck  before  long  made  his  appearance,  and  as  he 
bent  down  his  head  to  quaff  the  water,  a  brace  of 
buck-shot  planted  behind  his  left  foreleg  laid  him  low, 
and  his  carcase  was  speedily  deposited  in  the  canoe. 

The  sun  was  now  well  up,  and  as  Mrs.  P.  had  pro- 
vided for  the  wan+s  of  the  party  by  her  lucky  shot, 
and  no  more  deer  made  their  appearance,  she  lay 
down  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  and  soon  fell  fast 
asleep.  Hunters  and  soldiers  should  be  light  sleepers, 
as  was  Mrs.  Pentry  upon  this  occasion. 

How  long  she  slept  she  never  exactly  knew,  but 
she  was  awakened  by  a  splash  ;  lifting  her  head  above 
the  edge  of  the  boat,  she  saw  nothing  but  a  muddy 


60 


WOMAN'S  ADVENTURES  AND  HEROISM. 


spot  on  the  water  some  thirty  feet  away,  near  the 
shore.  This  was  a  suspicious  sign.  Looking  more 
closely,  she  saw  a  slight  motion  beneath  the  lily-pads, 
which  covered  closely,  like  a  broad  green  carpet,  the 
surface  of  the  lake.  Her  hand  was  on  her  gun,  and 
as  she  leveled  the  barrel  towards  the  turbid  spot,  she 
saw  a  head  suddenly  lifted,  and  at  the  same  moment  a 
huge  aidian  sprang  from  the  water  and  struggled  up 
through  the  dense  undergrowth  that  lined  the  edge  of 
the  lake. 

It  was  a  sudden  impulse  rather  than  a  thought, 
which  made  Mrs.  P.  level  the  gun  at  his  broad  back 
and  pull  the  trigger.  The  Indian  leaped  into  the  air, 
and  fell  back  in  the  water  dead,  with  half  a  dozen 
buck-shot  through  his  heart.  At  the  same  moment 
she  felt  a  strong  grasp  on  her  shoulder,  and  heard  a 
deep  guttural  "  ugh !  "  Turning  her  head  she  saw 
the  malignant  face  of  another  Indian  standing  waist- 
deep  in  the  water,  with  one  hand  on  the  boat  which 
he  was  dragging  toAvards  the  shore. 

A  swift  side-blow  from  the  gun-barrel,  and  he 
tumbled  into  the  water ;  l^ofore  he  could  recover,  the 
brave  wcman  had  snatched  the  paddle,  and  sent  the 
canoe  spinning  out  into  tiio  lake.  Then  dropping  the 
paddlo  and  seizing  her  gun  she  dashed  in  a  heavy 
charge  of  powder,  dropped  a  dozen  buck-shot  down 
the  nuizzle,  rammed  in  some  dry  grass,  primed  the 
pan,  and  leveled  it  again  at  the  savage,  who  having 
recovciod  from  the  blow,  was  iloundering  tinvards  the 
shore,  turning  and  shaking  his  tomahawk  at  lier, 
meanwhile,  wiili  a  ferocious  grin.  Again  the  report 
of  her  gun  nwakenei  the  forest  echoes,  and  before  ihe 


>^l 


1 


s 


mmm 


/,' 


TRAIL  OF  A  WAR-PARTY. 


61 


I 


echoes  had  died  away,  the  savage's  corpse  was  floating 
on  the  water. 

She  dared  not  immediately  approach  the  shore, 
fearing  that  other  savages  might  be  lying  in  ambush ; 
but  after  closely  scrutinizing  the  bushes,  she  saw  no 
signs  of  others,  besides  the  two  whom  she  had  shot. 
She  then  cut  long  strips  of  raw  hide  from  the  dead 
buck,  and  towing  the  bodies  of  the  Indians  far  out 
into  the  lake  sunk  them  with  the  stones  that  served 
to  anchor  the  canoes.  Returning  to  the  shore,  she 
took  their  guns  which  lay  upon  the  shelving  bank, 
and  rapidly  paddled  the  canoe  homeward. 

It  was  now  high  noon.  She  reached  the  cabin, 
entered,  and  sat  down  to  rest.  She  supposed  that  the 
savages  she  had  just  killed  were  stragglers  from  a 
war-party  who  had  lagged  behind  their  comrades,  and 
attracted  by  the  sound  made  by  her  gun  when  she 
shot  the  buck,  had  come  to  see  what  it  was.  The 
thought  that  a  larger  body  might  be  in  the  vicinity, 
and  that  they  would  capture  and  perhaps  kill  her  be- 
loved husband  and  his  companions,  was  a  torture  to 
her.  She  sat  a  few  moments  to  collect  her  thoughts 
and  resolve  what  course  to  pursue. 

Her  resolution  was  soon  taken.  She  could  not  sit 
longer  there,  while  her  husband  and  friends  were  ex- 
posed to  danger  or  death.  Again  she  entered  the 
canoe  and  paddled  across  the  arm  of  the  lake  to  the 
spot  where  the  waters  were  still  stained  with  the  blood 
of  tlie  Indians.  Hastily  effacing  this  bloody  trace,  she 
moored  the  canoes  and  Ibllowed  the  trail  of  the  sava- 
ges for  four  miles  to  the  northwest.  There  she  Ibund 
in  a  ravine  tlie  embers  of  a  fire,  where,  from  appear- 
ances as  many  as  twenty  redskins  had  spent  the  pre- 


l\ 


62 


WOMAN'S  ADVENTURES  AND  HEROISM. 


"■^ 


ceding  night.  Their  trail  led  to  the  northwest,  and 
by  certain  signs  known  to  hunters,  she  inferred  that 
they  had  started  at  day-break  and  were  now  far  on 
their  way  northward.  f 

When  her  four  male  associates  selected  their  re- 
spective routes  in  the  morning,  her  husband  had, 
she  now  remembered,  selected  one  which  led  directly 
in  the  trail  of  the  Indian  war-party,  and  by  good  cal- 
culation he  would  have  been  about  six  miles  in  their 
rear.  Not  being  joined  by  the  two  savages  whose 
bodies  lay  at  the  bottom  of  the  lake,  what  was  more 
likely  than  that  they  would  send  back  a  detachment 
to  look  after  the  safety  of  their  missing  comrades  ? 

The  first  thing  to  be  done  was  to  strike  her  hus- 
band's trail  and  then  follow  it  till  she  overtook  him  or 
met  him  returning.  Swiftly,  and  yet  cautiously,  she 
struck  out  into  the  forest  in  a  direction  at  right  angles 
with  the  Indian  camp.  Being  clad  in  trowsers  of  deer 
skin  and  a  short  tunic  and  moccasins  of  the  same  ma- 
terial, she  made  her  way  through  the  woods  as  easily 
as  a  man,  and  fortunately  in  a  few  moments  discovered 
a  trail  which  she  concluded  was  that  of  her  husband. 
Her  opinion  was  soon  verified  by  finding  a  piece  of 
leather  which  she  recognized  as  i)art  of  his  accoutre- 
ments. For  two  hours  she  strode  swiftly  on  through 
the  forest,  treading  literally  in  her  husband's  tracks. 

The  sun  was  now  three  hours  above  the  western 
horizon ;  so  taking  her  scat  upon  a  fallen  tree,  she 
waited,  expecting  to  sec  him  soon  returning  on  his 
trail,  when  she  heard  faintly  in  the  distance  the  report 
of  a  gun;  a  moment  after,  another  and  still  another 
report  followed  in  quick  succession.  Guided  by  the 
sound  she  hurried  through  the  tangled  thicket  from 


^ 


i 


>i,' 


SEARCHING  FOR  HER  HUSBAND. 


63 


V 


/ 


which  she  soon  emerged  into  a  grove  of  tall  pine 
trees,  and  in  the  distance  saw  two  Indians  with  their 
backs  turned  toward  her  and  shielding  themselves 
from  some  one  in  front  by  standing  behind  large  trees. 
Without  being  seen  by  them  she  stole  up  and  sheltered 
herself  in  a  similar  manner,  while  her  eye  ranged  the 
forest  in  search  of  her  husband  who  she  feared  was 
under  the  fire  of  the  red-skins. 

At  length  she  descried  the  object  of  their  hostility 
behind  the  trunk  of  a  fallen  tree.  It  was  clearly  a 
white  man  who  crouched  there,  and  he  seemed  to  be 
wounded.  She  immediately  took  aim  at  the  nearest 
Indian  and  sent  two  bullets  through  his  lungs.  The 
other  Indian  at  the  same  instant  had  fired  at  the  white 
man  and  then  sprang  forward  to  finish  him  with  his 
tomahawk.  Mrs.  Pentry  flew  to  the  rescue  and  just 
as  the  savage  lifted  his  arm  to  brain  his  foe,  she  drove 
her  hunting  knife  to  the  haft  into  his  spine. 

Her  husband  lay  prostrate  before  her  and  senseless 
with  loss  of  blood  from  a  bullet-wound  in  the  right 
shoulder.  Staunching  the  flow  of  blood  with  styptics 
which  she  gathered  among  the  forest  shrubs,  she 
brought  water  and  the  wounded  man  soon  revived. 
After  a  slow  and  weary  march  she  brought  him  back 
to  the  cabin,  carrying  him  part  of  the  way  upon  her 
shoulders.  Under  her  careful  nursing  he  at  length 
recovered  his  strength  though  he  alwavs  carried  the 
bullet  in  his  shoulder.  It  appears  he  had  met  three 
Indians  who  told  him  they  were  in  search  of  their  two 
missing  companions.  One  of  them  afterwards  treach- 
erously shot  him  from  behind  through  the  shoulder, 
and  in  return  Pentry  sent  a  ball  through  his  heart. 
Then  becoming  weak  from  loss  of  blood  he  could  only 


Ju 


WOMAN'S  ADVENTURES  AND  HEROISM. 


point  his  gim-barrel  at  the  remaining  Indians,  and  this 
was  his  situation  when  his  wife  came  up  and  saved  his 
life. 

After  receiving  such  an  admonition  it  is  natural  to 
suppose  the  whole  party  were  content  to  remain  near 
their  forest  home  for  a  season,  extending  their  ram- 
bles only  far  enough  to  enable  them  to  procure  game 
and  fish  for  their  table ;  and  this  was  not  far,  for  the 
lake  was  alive  with  fish ;  and  wild  turkeys,  deer,  and 
other  game  could  be  shot  sometimes  even  from  the 
cabin  door. 

The  party  were  also  deterred  by  this  experience 
from  attempting  to  drive  any  trade  with  the  Indians 
until  the  following  spring,  when  itiey  expected  to  be 
joined  by  a  large  party  of  hunters. 

The  summer  soon  passed  away,  and  the  cold  nights 
of  September  and  October  admonished  our  hardy  pio- 
neers that  they  must  prepare  for  a  rigorous  winter. 
Mrs.  Pentry  made  winter  clothing  for  the  men  and  for 
herself  out  of  the  skins  of  animals  wliich  they  had 
shot,  and  snow-shoes  from  the  sinews  of  deer  stretched 
on  a  frame  composed  of  strips  of  hard  wood.  She 
also  felled  trees  for  fuel  and  lined  the  walls  of  the 
cabin  with  deer  and  bear  skins ;  she  was  the  most  skil- 
ful mechanic  of  the  party,  and  having  fitted  runners 
of  hickory  to  one  of  the  boats  she  rigged  a  sail  of  soft 
skins  sewed  together,  and  once  in  November,  after  the 
river  was  frozen,  and  when  the  wind  blew  strongly 
from  the  northwest,  the  whole  party  undertook  to 
reach  the  mouth  of  the  river  by  sailing  down  in  their 
boat  upon  the  ice.  A  boat  of  this  kind,  when  the  ice 
is  smooth  and  the  wind  strong,  will  make  fifteen  miles 
an  hour. 


r. 


■ 


i . 


I 


'-. 


VOYAGING  ON  THE  ICE. 


65 


Tiiey  were  interrupted  frequently  in  their  course  by 
the  falls  and  rapids,  making  portages  necessary ;  nev- 
ertheless in  three  days  and  two  nights  they  reached  the 
mouth  of  the  river. 

Here  they  bartered  their  peltry  for  powder,  bullets, 
and  various  other  articles  most  needed  by  frontiers- 
men, and  catching  a  southeast  wind  started  on  their 
return.  In  a  few  hours  they  had  made  seventy  miles, 
and  at  night,  as  the  sky  threatened  snow,  they  pre- 
pared a  shelter  in  a  hollow  in  the  bank  of  the  river. 
Before  morning  a  snow-storm  had  covered  the  river- 
ice  and  blocked  their  passage.  For  three  days,  the 
snow  fell  continuously.  They  were  therefore  forced 
to  abandon  all  hopes  of  reaching  their  cabin  at  the 
head- waters  of  the  Kennebec.  The  hollow  or  cave  in 
the  bank  where  they  were  sheltered  they  covered  with 
saplings  and  branches  cut  from  the  bluff,  and  banked 
up  the  snow  round  it.  Their  supply  of  food  was  soon 
exhausted,  but  by  cutting  holes  in  the  ice  they  caught 
fish  for  their  subsistence. 

The  depth  of  the  snow  prevented  them  from  going 
far  from  their  place  of  shelter,  and  the  nights  were  bit- 
ter cold.  The  ice  on  the  river  was  two  feet  in  thick- 
ness ;  and  one  day,  in  cutting  through  it  to  fish,  their 
only  axe  was  broken.  No  worse  calamity  could  have 
befallen  them,  since  they  were  now  unable  to  cut  fuel 
or  to  procure  fish.  Mr.  Pentry,  who  was  still  suffering 
from  the  effects  of  his  wound,  contracted  a  cold  which 
settled  in  his  lame  shoulder,  and  he  was  obliged  to  stay 
in  doors,  carefully  nursed  and  tended  by  his  devoted 
wife.  The  privations  endured  by  these  unfortunates 
are  scarcely  to  be  paralleled.  Short  of  food,  ill-sup- 
plied with  clothing,  and  exposed  to  the  howling  sever- 
6 


66 


WOMAN'S  ADVENTURES  AND  HEROISM. 


ity  of  the  climate,  the  escape  of  any  one  of  the  num- 
ber appears  almost  a  miracle. 

A  nmnber  of  bear-skins,  removed  from  the  boat  to 
the  cave,  served  them  for  bedding.  Some  days,  when 
there  was  nothing  to  eat  and  no  means  of  making  a 
fire,  they  passed  the  whole  time  huddled  up  in  the 
skins.  Daily  they  became  weaker  and  less  capable  of 
exertion.  Wading  through  the  snow  up  to  the  waist, 
they  were  able  now  and  then  to  shoot  enough  small 
game  to  barely  keep  them  alive. 

After  the  lapse  of  a  fortnight  there  came  a  thaw, 
succeeded  by  a  cold  rain,  which  froze  as  it  fell.  The 
snow  became  crusted  over,  to  the  depth  of  two  inches, 
with  ice  that  was  strong  enough  to  bear  their  weight, 
They  extricated  their  ice-boat  and  prepared  for  depar- 
ture. One  of  the  party  had  gone  out  that  morning  on 
the  crust,  hoping  to  secure  some  larger  game  to  stock 
their  larder  before  starting;  the  rest  awaited  his 
return  for  two  hours,  and  then,  fearing  some  casualty 
had  happened  to  him,  followed  his  trail  for  half  a  mile 
from  the  river  and  found  him  engaged  in  a  desperate 
struggle  with  a  large  black  she-bear  which  he  had 
wounded. 

The  ferocious  animal  immediately  left  its  prey  and 
rushed  at  Mrs.  Pentry  with  open  mouth,  seizing  her 
left  arm  in  its  jaws,  crunched  it,  and  then,  rising  on  its 
hind  legs,  gave  her  a  terrible  hug.  The  rest  of  the 
party  dared  not  fire,  for  fear  of  hitting  the  woman. 
Twice  she  drove  her  hunting  knife  into  the  beast's 
vitals  and  it  fell  on  the  crust,  breaking  through  into 
the  snow  beneath,  where  the  two  rolled  over  in  a 
death-struggle.  The  heroic  woman  at  length  arose 
victorious,  and  the  carcase  of  the  bear  was  dragged 


'  )  /■ 


RESCUE  FROM  PERIL. 


67 


( 


forth,  skinned,  and  cut  up.  A  fire  was  speedily 
kindled,  Mrs.  Pentry's  wounds  were  dressed,  and  after 
refreshing  themselves  with  a  hearty  meal  of  bearsteak, 
the  remainder  of  the  meat  was  packed  in  the  boat. 

The  party  then  embarked,  and  by  the  aid  of  %  stifE 
easterly  breeze,  wer«  enabled,  in  three  days,  to  reach 
their  cabin  on  the  head-waters  of  the  Kennebec. 
The  explorations  made  along  the  Kennebec  by  Mrs. 
Pentry  and  her  companions  attracted  thither  an 
adventurous  class  of  settlers,  and  ultimately  led  to  the 
important  settlements  on  the  line  of  that  river. 

The  remainder  of  Mrs.  Pentry's  life  was  spent 
mainly  on  the  northern  frontier.  She  literally  lived 
and  died  in  the  woods,  reaching  the  advanced  age  of 
ninety-six  years,  and  seeing  three  generations  of  her 
descendants  grow  up  around  her.  Possessing  the 
strength  and  courage  of  a  man,  she  had  also  all  a 
woman's  kindness,  and  appears  to  have  been  an  esti- 
mable person  in  all  the  relations  of  life — a  good  wife 
and  mother,  a  warm  friend,  and  a  generous  neighbor. 
In  fact,  she  was  a  representative  woman  of  the  times 
in  which  she  lived. 

The  toils  of  a  severer  nature,  such  as  properly 
belong  to  man,  often  fall  upon  woman  from  the  neces- 
sities of  life  in  remote  and  isolated  settlements ;  she  is 
seen  plying  strange  vocations  and  undertaking  tasks 
that  bear  hardly  on  the  soft  and  gentle  sex.  Some- 
times a  hunter  and  trapper ;  and  again  a  mariner ;  now 
we  see  her  performing  the  rugged  work  of  a  farm, 
and  again  a  fighter,  stoutly  defending  her  home. 
The  fact  that  habit  and  necessity  accustom  her,  in 
frontier  life,  to  those  employments  which  in  older  and 
more  conventional  communities  are  deemed  unfitting 


. 


: 


W03fAN'S  ADMENTURES  AND  HEROISM. 

and  ungraceful  for  woman  to  engage  in,  makes  it  none 
the  less  striking  and  admirable,  because  in  doing  so 
she  serves  a  great  and  useful  purpose ;  she  is  thereby 
doing  her  part  in  forming  new  communities  in  the 
places  that  are  uninhabited  and  waste. 

Vermont  was  largely  settled  by  the  soldiers  who 
had  served  in  the  army  of  the  Revolution.  The  set- 
tlers, both  men  and  women,  were  hardy  and  intrepid, 
and  seem  to  have  been  peculiarly  adapted  to  subjugate 
that  rugged  region  in  our  New  England  wilderness. 
The  women  were  especially  noted  for  the  strength 
and  courage  with  which  they  shared  the  labors  of  the 
men  and  encountered  the  hardships  and  dangers  of 
frontier  life. 

When  sickness  or  death  visited  the  men  of  the 
family,  the  mothers,  wives,  or  widows  filled  their  places 
in  the  woods,  or  on  the  farm,  or  among  the  cattle. 
Often,  side  by  side  with  the  men,  women  could  be 
seen  emulating  their  husbands  in  the  severe  task  of 
felling  timber  and  making  a  clearing  in  the  forest. 

In  the  words  of  Daniel  P.  Thompson,  author  of 
"  The  Green  Mountain  Boys  " : — 

"  The  women  of  the  Green  Mountains  deserve  as 
much  credit  for  their  various  displays  of  courage, 
endurance,  and  patriotism,  in  the  early  settlement  of 
their  State,  as  was  ever  awarded  to  their  sex  for  simi- 
lar exhibitions  in  any  part  of  the  world.  In  the 
controversy  with  New  York  and  New  Hampshire, 
which  took  the  form  of  war  in  many  instances ;  in 
the  predatory  Indian  incursions,  and  in  the  War  of 
the  Revolution,  they  often  displayed  a  capacity  for 
labor  and  endurance,  a  spirit  and  firmness  in  the  hour 
of  danger,  a  resolution  and  hardihood  in  defending 


*  I 


1 1 


GREEN  MOUNTAIN  GIRLS. 


69 


-' 


their  families  and  their  threatened  land  against  all 
enemies,  whether  domestic  or  foreign,  that  would  have 
done  honor  to  the  dames  of  Sparta." 

The  first  man  who  commenced  a  settlement  in  the 
town  of  Salisbury,  Vermont,  on  the  Otter  Creek,  was 
Amos  Storey,  who,  in  making  an  opening  in  the  heart 
of  the  wilderness  on  the  right  of  land  to  which  the 
first  settler  was  entitled,  was  kiUed  by  the  fall  of  a 
tree.  His  widow,  who  had  been  left  in  Connecticut, 
immediately  resolved  to  push  into  the  wilderness  with 
her  ten  small  children,  to  take  his  place  Jind  preserve 
and  clear  up  his  farm.  This  bold  resolution  she 
carried  out  to  the  letter,  in  spite  of  every  difficulty, 
hardship,  and  danger,  which  for  years  constantly  beset 
her  in  her  solitary  location  in  the  woods.  Acre  after 
acre  of  the  dense  and  dark  forest  melted  away  before 
her  axe,  which  she  handled  with  the  dexterity  of  the 
most  experienced  chopper.  The  logs  and  bushes 
were  piled  and  burnt  by  her  own  strong  and  untir- 
ing hand;  crops  were  raised,  by  which,  with  the 
fruits  of  her  fishing  and  unerring  rifle,  she  supported 
herself  and  her  hardy  brood  of  children.  As  a  place 
of  refuge  from  the  assaults  of  Indians  or  dangerous 
wild  beasts,  she  dug  out  an  underground  room,  into 
which,  through  a  small  entrance  made  to  open  under 
an  overhanging  thicket  on  the  bank  of  the  stream, 
she  nightly  retreated  with  her  children. 

Frequently  during  the  dreary  winter  nights  she  w^as 
kept  awake  by  the  howling  of  the  wolves,  and  some- 
times, looking  through  the  chinks  in  the  logs,  she 
could  see  them  loping  in  circles  around  the  cabin, 
whining  and  snuffing  the  air  as  if  they  yearned  for 
human  blood.     They  were  gaunt,  fierce-looking  crea- 


T 


r 


70 


WOMAN'S  ADVENTURES  AND  HEROISM. 


tures,  and  in  the  winter-time  their  hunger  made  them 
so  bold  that  they  would  come  up  to  the  door  and 
scratch  against  it.  The  barking  of  her  mastiff  would 
soon  drive  the  cowardly  beasts  away  but  only  a  few 
rods,  to  the  edge  of  the  clearing  where,  sitting  on 
their  haunches,  they  frequently  watched  the  house 
all  night,  galloping  away  into  the  woods  when  day 
broke. 

Here  she  continued  to  reside,  thus  living,  thus 
laboring,  unassisted,  till,  by  her  own  hand  and  the 
help  which  her  boys  soon  began  to  afford  her,  she 
cleared  up  a  valuable  farm  and  placed  herself  in 
independent  circumstances. 

J^iss  Hannah  Fox  tells  the  following  thrilling  story 
of  an  adventure  that  befel  her  while  engaged  in  fell- 
ing trees  in  her  mother's  woods  in  Rhode  Island,  in 
the  early  colonial  days. 

We  were  making  fine  progress  with  our  clearing 
and  getting  ready  to  build  a  house  in  the  spring.  My 
brother  and  I  worked  early  and  late,  often  going  with- 
out our  dinner,  when  the  bread  and  meat  which  we 
brought  with  us  was  frozen  so  hard  that  our  teeth 
could  make  no  impression  upon  it,  without  taking  too 
much  of  our  time.  My  brother  plied  his  axe  on  the 
largest  trees,  while  I  worked  at  the  wmaller  ones  or 
trimmed  the  boughs  from  the  trunks  of  such  as  had 
been  felled. 

The  last  day  of  our  chopping  was  colder  than  ever. 
The  ground  was  covered  by  a  deep  snow  which  had 
crusted  over  hard  enough  to  bear  our  weight,  which 
was  a  great  convenience  in  moving  from  spot  to  spot 
in  the  forest,  as  well  as  in  walking  to  and  from  our 
cabin,  which  was  a  mile  away.     My  brother  had  gone 


1 


A  FEMALE  FORESTER. 


71 


to  the  nearest  settlement  that  day,  leaving  me  to  do 
my  work  alone. 

As  a  storm  was  threatening,  I  toiled  as  long  as  I 
could  see,  and  after  twilight  felled  a  sizeable  tree 
which  in  its  descent  lodged  against  another.  Not 
liking  to  leave  the  job  half  finished,  I  mounted  the 
almost  prostrate  trunk  to  cut  away  a  Umb  and  let  it 
down.  The  bole  of  the  tree  was  forked  about  twenty 
feet  from  the  ground,  and  one  of  the  divisions  of  the 
fork  would  have  to  be  cut  asunder.  A  few  blows  of 
my  axe  and  the  tree  began  to  settle,  but  as  I  was 
about  to  descend,  the  fork  split  and  the  first  joints  of 
my  left-hand  fingers  slid  into  the  crack  so  that  for  the 
moment  I  could  not  extricate  them.  The  pressure 
was  not  severe,  and  as  I  believed  I  could  soon  relieve 
myself  by  cutting  away  the  remaining  portion,  I  felt 
no  alarm.  But  at  the  first  blow  of  the  axe  which  I 
held  in  my  right  hand,  the  trunk  changed  its  position, 
rolling  over  and  closing  the  split,  with  the  whole  force 
of  its  tough  oaken  fibers  crushing  my  fingers  like 
pipe-stems ;  at  the  same  time  my  body  was  dislodged 
from  the  trunk  and  I  slid  slowly  down  till  I  hung 
suspended  with  the  points  of  my  feet  just  brushing  the 
snow.  The  air  was  freezing  and  every  moment  grow- 
ing colder ;  no  prospect  of  any  relief  that  night ;  the 
nearest  house  a  mile  away ;  no  friends  to  feel  alarmed 
at  my  absence,  for  my  mother  would  suppose  that  I 
was  safe  with  my  brother,  while  the  latter  would 
suppose  I  was  by  this  time  at  home. 

The  first  'thought  was  of  my  mother.  "  It  will  kill 
her  to  know  that  I  died  in  this  death-trap  so  near 
home,  almost  within  hearing  of  her  voice !  There 
must  be  some  escape !  but  how  ? "    My  axe  had  fallen 


rr 


I,  \ 


I  i 


t. 


% 


Y2  WOMAN'S  ADVENTURES  AND  HEROISM. 

below  me  and  my  feet  ooiild  almost  touch  it.  It  was 
impossible  to  imagine  how  I  could  cut  myself  loose 
unless  I  could  reach  it.  My  only  hope  of  life  rested 
on  that  keen  blade  which  lay  glittering  on  the  snow. 

Within  reach  of  my  hand  was  a  dead  bush  which 
towered  some  eight  feet  above  me,  and  by  a  great 
exertion  of  stienglh  I  managed  to  break  it.  Holding 
it  between  my  teeth  I  stripped  it  of  its  twigs,  leaving 
two  projecting  a  few  inches  at  the  lower  end  to  form 
a  hook.  With  this  I  managed  to  draw  towards  me 
the  head  of  the  axe  until  my  fingers  touched  it,  when 
it  slipped  from  the  hook  and  fell  again  upon  the  snow, 
breaking  through  the  crust  and  burying  itself  so  that 
only  the  upper  end  of  the  helve  could  be  seen. 

Up  to  tliat  nioment  the  recollection  of  my  mother 
and  the  first  excitement  engendered  by  hope  had  al- 
most made  me  unconscious  of  the  excruciating  pain  in 
my  crushed  fingers,  and  the  ^harp  thrilLs  that  shot 
through  my  nerves,  as  my  body  swung  and  twisted  in 
my  efforls  to  'ch  the  axe.  But  now.  as  the  axe  fell 
beyond  my  reach,  the  reaction  came,  -hope  fled,  and  I 
shuddered  with  the  thought  th'it  I  must  die  there  alone 
like  some  wild  thing  caug  jl  ni  a  snare.  I  tliought  of 
my  widowed  mother,  my  brother,  the  home  which  we 
had  toiled  to  make  comfortable  rnd  happy.  I  pvayed 
earnestly  to  God  for  forgiveness  of  my  sins,  and  then 
calmly  resigned  myself  to  death,  wliicli  I  now  believed 
to  be  inevitable.  For  a  time,  wliich  I  afterwards  found 
to  be  only  five  minutes,  but  >vhicli  then  seonicd  to  mo 
like  hour^,  I  liun^'  motionless.  The  pain  liad  ceai^ed, 
for  the  intense  cold  blunted  my  sense  of  feeling.  A 
numbness  stole  over  me,  r.nd  I  seemed  to  be  fallii.g  Into 
a  trance^  from  which  I  \s  as  roused  by  a  sound  of  bells 


.:! 


CN 


I 


\m 


A  DESPERATE  SITUATION. 


borne  to  me  as  if  from  a  great  distance.  Hope  again 
awoke,  and  I  screamed  loud  and  long;  the  woods 
echoed  my  cries,  but  no  voice  replied.  The  bells  grcAV  . 
fainter  and  fainter,  and  at  last  died  away.  But  the 
sound  of  my  voice  had  broken  the  spell  which  cold  and 
despair  were  fast  throwing  over  me.  A  hundred  de- 
vices ran  swiftly  through  my  mind,  and  each  device 
was  dismissed  as  impracticable.  The  helve  of  the  axe 
"caught  my  eye,  and  in  an  instant  by  an  association  of 
ideas  it  flashed  across  me  that  in  the  pocket  of  my  dress 
there  was  a  small  knife — another  sharp  instrument  by 
which  I  could  extricate  myself.  With  some  difficulty 
I  contrivec!  to  open  the  blade,  and  then  withdrawing 
the  knife  from  my  pocket  and  griping  it  as  one  who 
clings  to  the  last  hope  of  life,  I  strove  to  cut  away 
the  wood  that  held  my  fingers  in  its  terrible  vise.  In 
Vain !  the  wood  was  like  iron.  The  motion  of  my  arm 
and  body  brought  back  the  pain  which  the  cold  had 
lulled,  and  I  feared  that  I  should  faint. 

After  a  moment's  pause  I  adopted  a  last  expedient. 
Nerving  myself  to  the  dreadful  necessity,  I  disjointed 
my  fingers  and  fell  exhausted  to  the  ground.  My  life 
was  saved,  but  my  left  hand  was  a  bleeding  stump. 
The  intensity  of  the  cold  stopped  the  flow  of  blood. 
I  tore  off  a  piece  of  my  dress,  bound  up  my  fingers, 
and  started  for  home.  My  complete  exhaustion  and 
the  bitter  cold  made  that  the  longest  mile  I  had  ever 
traveled.  By  nine  o'clock  that  evening  I  had  man- 
aged to  drag  myself,  more  dead  than  alive,  to  my 
mother's  door,  but  ic  was  more  than  a  week  before  I 
could  again  leave  the  house. 

The  diflicultios  encoimtercd  by  the  first  cmigr.'nt- 
bands  from  Massac hu.se its,  on  their  journey  to  Con- 


74 


WOMAN'S  ADVENTURES  AND  HEROISM. 


I; 


ii  ■ 


necticut,  may  be  understood  best  when  we  consider 
the  face  of  the  country  between  Massachusetts  Bay 
and  Hartford.  It  was  a  succession  of  ridges  and  deep 
valleys  with  swamps  and  rapid  streams,  and  covered 
with  forests  and  thickets  where  bears,  wolves,  and 
catamounts  prowled.  The  journey,  which  occupies 
now  but  a  few  hours,  then  generally  required  two 
weeks  to  perform.  The  early  settlers,  men,  women, 
and  children,  pursued  their  toilsome  march  over  this 
rough  country,  picking  their  way  through  morasses, 
wading  through  rivers  and  streai^s,  and  climbing 
mountains;  driving  their  cattle,  sheep,  and  swine 
before  them.  Some  c^me  on  horseback ;  the  older 
and  feebler  in  ox-carts,  but  most  of  them  traveled  on 
foot.  At  night  aged  and  delicate  wonv^n  slept  under 
trees  in  the  forest,  with  no  covering  out  the  foliage 
and  the  cope  of  heaven. 

The  winter  was  near  at  hand,  and  the  nights  were 
already  cold  and  frosty.  Many  of  the  women  had 
been  delicately  reared,  and  yet  were  obliged  to  travel 
on  foot  for  the  whole  distance,  reaching  their  desti- 
nation in  a  condition  of  exhaustion  that  ill  prepared 
them  for  the  hardships  of  the  ensuing  winter.  Some 
were  nursing  mothers,  who  sheltered  themselves  and 
their  babes  in  rude  huts  where  the  wind,  rain,  and 
snow  drove  in  through  yawning  fissures  which  there 
were  no  means  to  close.  Others  were  aged  women, 
who  in  sore  distress  sent  up  their  prayers  and  rolled 
their  quavering  liymns  to  the  wintry  skies,  their  only 
canopy.  The  story  of  these  hapless  families  is  told  in 
the  simple  but  eifective  language  of  the  old  historian. 

"On  th-  15th  of  October  [1G32]  about  sixty  men, 
women,  and  children,  with  their  houses,  cattle,  and 


THE  SETTLERS  OF  CONNECTICUT. 


75 


swine,  commenced  their  journey  from  Massachusetts, 
through  the  wilderness,  to  Connecticut  River.  After  a 
tedious  and  difficult  journey  through  swamps  and  rivers, 
over  mountains  and  rough  grounds,  which  were  passed 
with  great  difficulty  and  fatigue,  they  arrived  safely  at 
their  respective  destinations.  They  were  so  long  on' 
their  journey,  and  so  much  time  and  pains  were  spent 
in  passing  the  river,  and  in  getting  over  their  cattle,  that 
after  all  their  exertions,  winter  came  upon  them  before 
they  were  prepared.  This  was  an  occasion  of  groat 
distress  and  damage  to  the  plantation.  The  same 
autumn  several  other  parties  came  from  the  east — 
including  a  large  number  of  women  and  children — by 
different  routes,  i  .  settled  on  the  banks  of  the  Con- 
necticut river. 

"  The  winter  set  in  this  year  much  sooner  than 
usual,  and  the  weather  was  stormy  and  severe.  By  the 
IStli  of  November,  the  Connecticut  river  was  frozen 
over,  and  the  snow  was  so  deep,  and  the  season  so 
tempestuous,  that  a  considerable  number  of  the  cattle 
which  had  been  driven  on  from  the  Massachusetts, 
could  not  be  brought  across  the  river.  The  people 
had  so  little  time  to  prepare  their  huts  and  houses, 
and  to  erect  sheds  and  shelter  for  their  cattle,  that  the 
sufferings  of  man  and  beast  were  extreme.  Indeed 
the  hardnhips  and  distresses  of  the  first  phmters  of 
Connecticut  scarcely  admit  of  a  description.  To  carry 
much  provision  or  furniture  through  a  pathless  wilder- 
ness was  impracticable.  Th«nr  principal  provisions 
and  household  furniture  were  tlierefore  put  on  several 
small  vessels,  which,  by  reason  of  delays  and  the 
tempostuousness  of  the  season,  were  cast  away.  Sev- 
eral voNi^els  were  wrecked  on  the  coast  of  New  Eng- 


jg!;g^f^f!?^m!'i7mmrwm^!^7^mmmmmmmmm^mms^rmms^sBm 


10  WOMAN'S  ADVENTURES  AND  HEROISM. 

land,  by  the  violence  of  the  storms.  Two  shallops 
I^den  with  goods  from  Boston  to  Connecticut,  were 
cast  away  in  October,  on  Brown's  Island,  near  the 
Gurnet's  Nose;  and  the  men  with  every  thing  on 
board  were  lost.  A  vessel  with  six  of  the  Connecti- 
"^  cut  people  on  board,  which  sailed  from  the  river  for 
Boston,  early  in  November,  was,  about  the  middle  of 
the  month,  cast  awa^  in  Manamet  Bay.  The  men 
and  women  got  on  shore,  and  after  wandering  ten 
days  in  deep  snow  and  a  severe  season,  without  meet- 
ing any  human  being,  arrived,  nearly  spent  with  cold 
and  fatigue,  at  New  Plymouth. 

"  By  the  last  of  November,  or  beginning  of  Decem- 
ber, provisions  generally  failed  in  the  settlements  on 
.  the  river,  and  famine  and  death  looked  the  inhabitiints 
sternly  in  the  face.  Some  of  them  driven  by  hunger 
attempted  their  way,  in  that  severe  season,  through 
the  wilderness,  from  Connecticut  to  Massachusetts. 
Of  thirteen,  in  one  company,  who  made  this  attempt, 
one  in  passing  the  river  fell  through  the  ice  and  was 
drowned.  The  other  twelve  were  ten  days  on  their 
journey,  and  would  all  have  perished,  had  it  not  been 
for  the  assistance  of  the  Indians. 

"  Indeed,  such  was  the  distress  in  general,  that  by 
the  3d  and  4th  of  December,  a  considerable  part  of 
the  new  settlers  were  obliged  to  abandon  their  hal)ita- 
tions.  Seventy  persons,  men,  women,  and  children, 
were  compelled,  in  the  extremity  of  winter,  to  go 
down  to  the  mouth  of  the  river  to  meet  their  j)rt) vi- 
sions, as  the  only  expedient  to  preserve  their  lives. 
Not  meeting  with  the  vessels  which  they  expected, 
they  all  went  on  bnnrd  the  Rebecca,  a  vessel  of  about 
sixty  tons.  This,  two  days  before,  was  fro/.en  in,  twenty 
miles  up  the  river ;  but  by  the  falling  of  a  small  rain, 


COLD  AND  FAMINE. 


n 


58 

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and  the  influence  of  the  tide,  the  ice  became  so  broken 
and  was  so  far  removed,  that  she  made  a  shift  to  get 
out.  She  ran,  however,  upon  the  bar,  and  the  people  \ 
were  forced  to  unlade  her  to  get  off.  She  was  re- 
leased, and  in  five  days  reached  Boston.  Had  it  not 
been  for  these  providential  circumstances,  the  people 
must  have  perished  with  famine. 

"  The  people  who  kept  their  stations  on  the  river 
suffered  in  an  extreme  degree.  After  all  the  help 
they  were  able  to  obtain,  by  hunting,  and  from  the 
Indians,  they  were  obliged  to  subsist  on  acorns,  malt, 
and  grains. 

"Numbers  of  the  cattle  which  could  not  be  got 
over  the  river  before  winter,  lived  through  witiiout 
anything  but  what  tliey  found  in  the  w^oods  and  mea- 
dows. They  wintered  as  well,  or  better  than  those 
which  were  brought  over,  and  for  which  all  the  pro- 
vision was  lUade  and  pains  taken  of  which  the  owners 
were  capable.  However,  a  great  number  of  cattle 
perished.  The  Dorchester  or  Windsor  people,  lost  in 
this  way  alone  about  two  hundred  pounds  sterling. 
Tlieir  other  losses  were  very  considerable." 

It  is  difficult  to  describe,  or  even  to  conceive,  the 
apprehensions  or  distresses  of  a  people  in  the  circum- 
stances of  our  venerable  ancestors,  during  tliis  doleful 
winter.  All  the  horrors  of  a  dreary  wilderness  spread 
themselves  around  them.  They  were  compassed  with 
numerous  fierce  and  cruel  tribes  of  wild  and  savage 
men,,  who  could  have  swallowed  up  parents  and  chil' 
dron  at  pleasure,  in  their  feeble  and  distressed  condi- 
tion. They  had  neither  bread  for  themselvoH  nor 
ciiildren ;  neither  habitation  nor  clothing  convenient 
for  them.  Whatever  emergency  might  happen,  they 
were  cut  off,  both  by  land  and  water,  from  any  succor 


■77*c"sw*WTP'"^'*T«wT'^^PFa 


IB 


WOMAN'S  ADVENTURES  AND  HEROISM. 


or  retreat.  What  seK-denial,  firmness,  and  magna- 
pimity  are  necessary  for  such  enterprises !  How  dis- 
tressing, in  the  beginning,  was  the  condition  of  those 
now  fair  and  opulent  towns  on  Connecticut  River  I 

Under  the  most  favorable  circumstances,  the  lives  of 
the  pioneer-women  must  have  been  one  long  ordeal 
of  hardship  and  suffering.  The  fertile  valleys  were 
the  scenes  of  the  bloodiest  Indian  raids,  while  the  re- 
mote and  sterile  hill  country,  if  it  escaped  the  atten- 
tion of  the  hostile  savage,  was  liable  to  be  visited  by 
other  ills.  Famine  in  such  regions  was  always  immi' 
nent,  and  the  remoteness  and  isolation  of  those  fron- 
tier-cabins often  made  relief  impossible.  A  failure  in 
the  little  crop  of  corn,  which  the  thin  soil  of  the  hill- 
side scantily  furnished,  and  the  family  were  driven  to 
the  front  for  game  and  to  the  streams  for  fish,  to  supply 
their  wants.  Then  came  the  winter,  and  the  cabin 
was  often  blockaded  with  snow  for  weeks.  The  fuel 
and  food  rorisumed,  nothing  seemed  left  to  the  doomed 
household  but  to  struggle  on  for  a  season,  and  then 
lie  dow!  and  die.  Fortunately  the  last  sad  catastro- 
phe was  of  rare  occurrence,  owing  to  the  extraordi- 
nary rf^solution  and  hardihood  of  the  settlers. 

It  is  a  striking  fact  that  in  all  the  records,  chronicles, 
and  letters  of  the  early  settlers  that  have  come  down 
to  us,  there  are  scarcely  to  be  found  any  complaining 
word  from  woman.  She  simply  stated  her  sufferings, 
the  dangers  she  encountered,  the  hardships  she  en- 
dured, and  that  was  all.  No  querulous  or  peevish  com- 
plaints, no  moanings  over  her  hard  lot.  She  bore  her 
pains  and  sorrows  and  privations  in  silence,  looking 
forward  to  her  reward,  and  knowing  that  slio  was 
making  homes  in  the  wilderness,  and  that  future  gen*>- 
rations  would  rise  up  and  call  her  blessed. 


CHAPTER   lY. 


THE  BLOCK-HOUSE,  AND  ON  THE  INDIAN  TRAIL. 

THE  axe  and  the  gun,  the  one  to  conquer  the 
forces  of  wild  nature,  the  other  to  battle  against 
savage  man  and  beast — these  were  the  twin  weapons 
that  the  pioneer  always  kept  beside  him,  whether  on 
the  march  or  during  a  halt.  In  defensive  warfare  the 
axe  was  scarcely  less  potent  than  the  gun,  for  with  its 
keen  edge  the  great  logs  were  hewed  which  formed 
the  block-house,  and  the  tall  saplings  shaped,  which 
were  driven  into  the  earth  to  make  the  stockade.  We 
know  too  that  woman  could  handle  the  gun  and  ply 
the  axe  when  required  so  to  do. 

In  one  of  our  historical  galleries  there  was  exhibited 
not  long  since  a  painting  representing  a  party  of  Indi- 
ans attacking  a  block-house  in  a  New  England  settle- 
ment. The  house  is  a  structure  framed,  and  built  of 
enormous  logs,  hexagonal  in  shape,  the  upper  stories 
over-hanging  those  beneath,  and  pierced  with  loop- 
holes. There  is  a  thick  parapet  on  tlie  roof,  behind 
which  are  collected  the  chiluren  of  the  settlement 
guarded  by  women,  old  and  young,  some  of  whom 
are  firing  over  the  parapet  at  the  yelling  fiends  who 
have  just  emerged  from  their  forest-ambush.  A. 
glimpse  of  the  interior  of  the  Ijlock-hoiise  shows  us 
women  engaged  in  casting  bullets  and  loading  fire-arms 
wliicli  they  are  handing  to  the  men.  In  the  back- 
ground a  brave  girl  is  returning  swiftly  to  the  garri- 

C7U) 


jit;*5!'i'i>W!**5W!W'.w»-wiftfi''  Jiwfp-ww  ts^i-i" 


80      THE  BLOCKHOUSE,  AND  ON  THE  INDIAN  TRAIL. 

son,  with  buckets  of  water  which  she  has  drawn  from 
the  spring,  a  few  rods  away  from  the  house.  A  crouch- 
ing savage  has  leveled  his  gun  at  her,  and  she 
evidently  knows  the  danger  she  is  in,  but  moves 
steadily  forward  without  spilling  a  drop  of  her  pre- 
cious burden. 

The  block-house  is  surrounded  by  the  primeval 
forest,  which  is  alive  with  savages.  Some  are  shaking 
at  the  defenders  of  the  block-house  fresh  scalps,  evi- 
dently just  torn  from  the  heads  of  men  and  women 
who  have  been  overtaken  and  tomahawked  before  they 
could  reach  their  forest-citadel :  others  have  fired  the 
stack  of  corn.  A  large  fire  has  been  kindled  in  the 
woods  and  a  score  of  savages  are  wrapping  dry  grass 
around  the  ends  of  long  poles,  with  which  to  fire  the 
wooden  walls  of  the  block-house. 

Thirty  or  forty  men  women  and  children  in  a  wooden 
fort,  a  hundred  miles,  perhaps,  from  any  settlement, 
and  surrounded  by  five  times  their  number  of  Pequots 
or  Wampanoags  thirsting  for  their  blood !  This  is  in- 
deed a  faithful  picture  of  one  of  the  frequent  episodes 
of  colonial  life  in  New  England ! 

Every  new  settlement  wa^;  brought  face  to  face  with 
such  dangers  as  we  have  described.  The  red-i  i  lan  and 
the  white  man  were  next  door  neighbors.  The  smokes 
of  the  wigwam  and  the  cabin  mingled  as  they  rose  to 
the  sky.  From  the  first  there  was  mwe  or  less  antago- 
nism. Life  among  the  white  settloi's  was  a  kind  of 
picket-service  in  which  woman  shared. 

At  times,  as  for  example  in  the  wars  with  the  Pe- 
quots and  King  Philip,  there  was  safety  nowhere. 
Men  wont  armed  to  the  field,  to  meeting,  and  to  bring 
hK2«ic  their  Wides  from  their  father's  house  where  they 


MRS.  ROWLANDSOM'S  SUFFERING. 


n 


had  married  them.  Women  with  muskets  at  their 
side  lulled  their  babes  to  sleep.  Like  the  tiger  of  the 
jungles,  the  savage  lay  in  ambush  for  the  women  and 
children :  he  knew  he  could  strike  the  infant  colony- 
best  by  thus  desolating  the  homes. 

The  captivities  of  Mrs.  Williams  and  her  children, 
of  Mrs.  Shute,  of  Mrs.  Johnson,  of  Mrs.  Howe,  and  of 
many  other  matrons,  as  well  as  of  unmarried  women, 
are  well-conned  incidents  of  New  England  colonial 
history.  The  story  of  Mrs.  Dustin's  exploit  and  es- 
cape reads  like  a  romance.  "At  night,"  to  use  the 
concise  language  of  Mr.  Bancroft, "  while  the  house- 
hold slumbers,  the  captives,  each  with  a  tomahawk, 
strike  vigorously,  and  fleetly,  and  with  division  of  la- 
bor,— and  of  the  twelve  sleepers,  ten  lie  dead ;  of  one 
squaw  the  wound  was  not  mortal;  one  child  was 
spared  from  design.  The  love  of  glory  next  asserted 
its  power ;  and  the  gun  and  tomahawk  of  the  mur- 
derer of  her  infant,  and  a  bag  heaped  full  of  scalps 
were  choicely  kept  as  trophies  of  the  heroine.  The 
streams  are  the  guides  which  God  has  set  for  the  stran- 
ger in  the  wilderness :  in  a  bark  canoe  the  three 
descend  the  Merrimac  to  the  English  settlement, 
astonishing  their  friends  by  their  escape  and  filling 
the  land  with  wonder  at  their  successful  daring." 

The  details  of  Mrs.  Rowlandson's  sufferings  after  her 
capture  at  Lancaster,  Mass.,  in  1670,  are  almost  too 
painful  to  dwell  upon.  When  the  Indians  began  their 
nuuH'h  the  day  after  the  destruction  of  that  place, 
Mrs.  Rowlandson  carried  her  infant  till  her  strength 
tailed  and  she  fell.  Toward  night  it  began  to  snow ; 
and  gathering  a  few  sticks,  she  made  a  fire.  Sitting 
beside  it  on  the  snow,  she  held  her  child  in  her  arms, 


i??fft;>rniww«iijjj|.wiwi 


}  - 


g2      THE  BLOCK-HOUSE,  AND  ON  THE  INDIAN  TRAIL. 

through  the  long  and  dismal  night.  For  three  or  four 
days  she  had  no  sustenance  but  water ;  nor  did  her 
child  share  any  better  for  nine  days.  During  this 
time  it  was  constantly  in  her  arms  or  lap.  At  the  end 
of  that  period,  the  frost  of  death  crept  into  its  eyes, 
and  she  was  forced  to  relinquish  it  to  be  disposed  of 
by  the  unfeeling  sextons  of  the  forest. 

She  went  through  almost  every  suffering  but  death. 
She  was  beaten,  kicked,  turned  out  of  doors,  refused 
food,  insulted  in  the  grossest  manner,  and  at  times 
almost  starved.  Nothing  but  experience  can  enable  us 
to  conceive  what  must  be  the  hunger  of  a  person  by 
whom  the  discovery  of  six  acorns  and  two  chestnuts 
was  regarded  as  a  rich  prize.  At  times,  in  order  to 
make  her  miserable,  they  announced  to  her  the  death 
of  her  husband  and  her  children. 

On  various  occasions  they  threatened  to  kill  her. 
Occasionally,  but  for  short  intervals  only,  she  was 
permitted  to  see  her  children,  and  suffered  her  own 
anguish  over  again  in  their  miseries.  She  was  obliged, 
while  hardly  able  to  walk,  to  carry  a  heavy  burden, 
over  hills,  and  through  rivers,  swamps,  and  marshes ; 
and  in  the  most  inclement  seasons.  These  evils  were 
repeated  dailj' ;  and,  to  crown  them  all,  she  was  daily 
saluted  with  the  most  barbarous  and  insolent  accounts 
of  the  burning  and  slaughter,  the  tortures  and  agonies, 
inflicted  by  them  upon  her  countrymen.  It  is  to  be 
remembered  that  Mrs.  Rowlandson  was  tenderly  and 
delicately  educated,  and  ill  fitted  to  encounter  such 
distresses ;  and  yet  she  bore  them  all  with  a  fortitude 
truly  wonderful. 

Instances  too  there  were,  where  a  single  woman  in- 
fused her  own  dauntless  spirit  into  a  whole  garrison, 


WOMAN'S  COURAGE. 


83 


and  prevented  them  from  abandoning  their  post.  Mrs. 
Heard,  "  a  widow  of  good  estate,  a  mother  of  many- 
children,  and  a  daughter  of  Mr.  Hull,  a  revered  min- 
ister forn:"rly  settled  in  Piseataqua,"  having  escaped 
from  captivity  among  the  Indians,  about  1689,  returned 
to  one  of  the  garrisons  on  the  extreme  frontier  of  New 
Hampshire.  By  her  presence  and  courage  this  out- 
post was  maintained  for  ten  years  and  during  the 
whole  war,  though  frequently  assaulted  by  savages. 
It  is  stated  that  if  she  had  left  the  garrison  and  retired 
to  Portsmouth,  as  she  was  solicited  to  do  by  her  friends, 
the  out-post  would  have  been  abandoned,  greatly  to 
the  damage  of  the  surrounding  country. 

Long  after  the  New  England  colonies  rested  in  com- 
parative security  from  the  attacks  of  the  aboriginal 
tribes,  the  warfare  was  continued  in  the  Middle,  South- 
ern, and  Western  States ;  and  even  at  this  hour,  sitting 
in  our  peaceful  homes  we  read  in  the  journals  of  the 
day  reports  of  Indian  atrocities  perpetrated  against 
the  families  of  the  pioneers  on  our  extreme  western 
frontier. 

Our  whole  history  from  the  earliest  times  to  the 
present,  is  full  of  instances  of  woman's  noble  achieve- 
ments. East,  west,  north,  south,  wherever  we  wan- 
der, we  tread  the  soil  which  has  been  wearily  trodden 
by  her  feet  as  a  pioneer,  moistened  by  her  tears  as  a 
captive,  or  by  her  blood  as  a  martyr  in  the  cause  of 
civilization  on  this  western  continent. 

% 

The  sorrows  of  maidens,  wive?^,  ?infl  mothers  in  the 
border  wars  of  our  colonial  limes,  have  furnished 
themes  for  the  poet,  the  artist,  vni\  =he  novelist,  but 
the  reality  of  these  scenes  as  described  in  the  simple 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
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WIBSTIR.N.Y.  14580 

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34      THE  BLOCK-nOUSE,  AND  ON  THE  INDIAN  TRAIL. 

words  of  the  local  historians,  often  exceeds  the  most 
vivid  dress  in  which  imagination  can  clothe  it. 

One  of  the  most  deeply  rooted  traits  of  woman's 
nature  is  sympathy,  and  the  outflow  of  that  emotion 
into  action  is  as  natural  as  the  emotion  itself.  When  a 
woman  witnesses  the  sufferings  of  others  it  is  instinct- 
ive with  her  to  try  and  relieve  them,  and  to  be 
thwarted  in  the  exercise  of  this  faculty  is  to  her  a 
positive  pain. 

We  may  judge  from  this  of  what  her  feelings  must 
have  been  when  she  saw,  as  she  often  did,  those  who 
were  dearest  to  her  put  to  torture  and  death  without 
being  permitted  to  rescue  them  or  even  alleviate  theii 
agonies. 

Such  was  the  position  in  which  Mrs.  Waldron  was 
placed,  on  the  northern  border,  during  the  French 
and  Indian  war  of  the  last  century.  She  and  her  hus- 
band occupied  a  small  block-house  which  they  had 
built  a  few  miles  from  Cherry  Valley,  New  York,  and 
here  she  was  doomed  to  suffer  all  that  a  wife  could,  in 
witnessing  the  terrible  fate  of  her  husband  and  being 
at  the  same  time  powerless  to  rescue  him. 

"  One  fatal  evening,"  to  use  the  quaint  words  of  our 
heroine,  "  I  was  all  alone  in  the  house,  whe  i  I  was  of 
a  sudden  surprised  with  the  fearful  war-whoop  and  a 
tremendous  attack  upon  the  door  and  the  palisades 
around.  I  flew  to  the  upper  window  and  seizing  my 
husband's  gun,  which  I  had  learned  to  use  expertly, 
I  leveled  the  barrel  on  the  window-sill  and  took  aim 
at  the  foremost  savage.  Knowing  their  cruelty  and 
merciless  disposition,  and  wishing  to  obtain  some 
favor,  I  desisted  from  firing ;  but  how  vain  and  fruit- 
less are  the  efforts  of  one  woman  against  the  united 


A  SHOCKING  SPECTACLE. 


85 


'Vi 


1. 


if 


n 


force  of  so  many,  and  of  such  merciless  monsters  as 
I  had  here  to  deal  with!  One  of  them  that  could 
speak  a  little  English,  threatened  me  in  return,  *  that 
if  I  did  not  come  out,  they  would  burn  me  alive  in 
the  house.'  My  terror  and  distraction  at  hearing  this 
is  not  to  be  expressed  by  words  nor  easily  imagined 
by  any  person  unless  in  the  same  condition.  Dis- 
tracted as  I  was  in  such  deplorable  circumstances,  I 
chose  to  rely  on  the  uncertainty  of  their  protection, 
rather  than  meet  with  certain  death  in  the  house ; 
and  accordingly  went  out  with  my  gun  in  my  hand, 
scarcely  knowing  what  I  did.  Immediately  on  my 
approach,  they  rushed  on  me  like  so  many  tigers,  and 
instantly  disarmed  me.  Having  me  thus  in  their 
power,  the  merciless  villians  bound  me  to  a  tree  near 
the  door. 

"  While  our  house  and  barns  were  burning,  sad  to 
relate,  my  husband  just  then  came  through  the  woods, 
and  being  spied  by  the  barbarians,  they  gave  chase 
and  soon  overtook  him.  Alas !  for  what  a  fate  was 
he  reserved !  Digging  a  deep  pit,  they  tied  his  arms 
to  his  side  and  put  him  into  it  and  then  rammed  and 
beat  the  earth  all  around  his  body  up  to  his  neck, 
his  head  only  appearing  above  ground.  They  then 
scalped  him  and  kindled  a  slow  fire  near  his  head. 

"  I  broke  my  bonds,  and  running  to  him  kissed  his 
poor  bleeding  face,  and  threw  myself  at  the  feet  of 
his  barbarous  tormentors,  begging  them  to  spare  his 
life.  Deaf  to  all  my  tears  and  entreaties  and  to  the 
piercing  shrieks  of  my  unfortunate  husband,  they 
dragged  me  away  and  bound  me  more  firmly  to  the 
tree,  smiting  my  face  with  the  dripping  scalp  and 
laughing  at  my  agonies. 


!S 


86      THE  DLOCK-nOUSE,  AND  ON  THE  INDIAN  TRAIL. 

Thank  God !  I  then  lost  all  consciousness  of  the 
dreadful  scene ;  and  when  I  regained  my  senses  the 
m<"nsters  liad  fled  after  cutting  off  the  head  of  the 
poor  victim  of  their  cruel  rage." 

When  the  British  formed  an  unholy  alliance  with 
the  Indians  during  the  Revolutionary  War  and  turned 
the  tomahawk  and  scalping  knife  against  their  kins- 
men, the  beautiful  valley  of  Wyoming  became  a  dark 
and  bloody  battle-ground.  The  organization  and  dis- 
ciplined vale?  of  the  white  man,  leagued  with  the 
cunning  and  ferocity  of  the  red  man,  was  a  combina- 
tion which  met  the  patriots  at  every  step  in  those 
then  remote  settlements,  and  spread  rapine,  fire,  and 
murder  over  that  lovely  region. 

The  sufferings  of  the  captive  women,  the  dreadful 
scenes  they  witnessed,  and  the  fortitude  and  courage 
they  displayed,  have  been  rescued  from  tradition  and 
embodied  in  a  permanent  record  by  more  than  one 
historian.  The  names  of  Mrs.  Bennet,  Mrs.  Myers, 
Mrs.  Marcy,  Mrs.  Franklin,  and  a  host  of  others,  are 
inseparably  associated  with  the  household  legends  of 
the  Wyoming  Valley. 

Miss  Cook,  after  witnessing  the  barbarous  murder 
and  mutilation  of  a  beautiful  girl,  whose  rosy  cheeks 
were  gashed  and  whose  silken  tresses  were  torn  from 
her  head  with  the  scalping  knife,  was  threatened  with 
instant  death  unless  she  would  assist  in  dressing  a 
bundle  of  fresh,  reeking  scalps  cut  from  the  heads  of 
her  friends  and  relatives.  As  she  handled  the  gory 
trophies,  expecting  every  moment  that  her  own  locks 
would  be  added  to  the  ghastly  heap,  she  saw  some- 
thing in  each  of  those  sad  mementos  that  reminded 
her  of  those  who  were  near  and  dear  to  her.    At  last 


! 


A  MURDEROUS  SUGGESTION. 


,87 


KjI 


I 


, 


she  lifted  one  which  she  thought  was  her  mother's ; 
she  gazed  at  the  long  tresses  sprinkled  with  gray  and 
called  to  mind  how  often  she  had  combed  and  caressed 
them  in  happier  hours :  shuddering  through  her  whole 
frame,  the  wretched  girl  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears. 
The  ruthless  savage  who  stood  guard  over  her  with 
brandished  tomahawk  immediately  forced  her  to  re- 
sume and  complete  her  horrible  task. 

In  estimating  the  heroism  of  American  women  dis- 
played in  their  conflicts  with  the  aborigines,  we  must 
take  into  account  her  natural  repugnance  to  repulsive 
and  horrid  spectacles.  The  North  American  savage 
streaked  with  war-paint,  a  bunch  of  reeking  scalps  at 
his  girdle,  his  snaky  eyes  gleaming  with  malignity, 
was  a  direful  sight  for  even  a  hardened  frontiers-man ; 
how  much  mor^',  then,  to  his  impressionable  and 
delicate  wife  and  daughter.  The  very  appearance  of 
the  savage  suggested  thoughts  of  the  tomahawk,  the 
scalping  knife,  the  butchered  relations,  the  desolated 
homestead.  Nothing  can  better  illustrate  the  hardi- 
hood of  these  bold  spirited  women  than  the  fact  that 
they  showed  themselves  not  seldom  superior  to  these 
feelings  of  dread  and  abhorrence,  daring  even  in  the 
midst  of  scenes  of  blood  to  denounce  personally  and 
to  their  face  the  treachery  and  cruelty  of  their  foes. 
*In  the  year  1763  a  party  of  Shawnees  visited  the 
Block-House  at  Big  Levels,  Virginia,  and  after  being 
hospitably  entertained  by  the  inhabitants,  turned 
treacherously  upon  them  and  massacred  every  white 
man  in  the  house.  The  women  and  children  were 
carried  away  as  captives,  including  Mrs.  Glendenning, 
the  late  wife,  and  now  the  widow  of  one  of  the  lead- 
ing  settlers.     Notwithstanding   the   dreadful  scenes 


*UcIIlVS9. 


83     TEE  BLOCK-HOUSE,  AND  OX  THE  INDIAN  TRAIL. 

through  which  she  had  passed,  Mrs.  Glendenning  was 
not  intimidated.  Her  husband  and  friends  had  been 
butchered  before  her  eyes ;  but  though  possessed  of 
keen  sensibilities,  her  spirit  was  undaunted  by  the 
awful  spectacle.  Filled  with  indignation  at  the 
treachery  and  cruelty  of  the  Indians,  she  loudly 
denounced  them,  and  tauntingly  told  them  that  they 
lacked  the  hearts  of  great  warriors  who  met  their  foes 
in  fair  and  open  conflict.  The  savages  were  astound- 
ed at  her  audacity;  they  tried  to  frighten  her  into 
silence  by  flapping  the  bloody  scalp  of  her  husband  in 
her  face  and  by  flourishing  their  tomahawks  above 
her  head.  The  intrepid  woman  still  continued  to 
express  her  indignation  and  detestation.  The  savages, 
admiring  her  courage,  refrained  from  inflicting  any 
injury  upon  her.  She  soon  after  managed  to  effect 
her  escape  and  returned  to  her  desolate  home,  where 
she  gave  decent  interment  to  the  mangled  remains  of 
her  husband.  During  all  the  trying  scenes  of  the 
massacre  and  captivity  Mrs.  Glendenning  proved  her- 
self worthy  of  being  ranked  with  the  bravest  women 
of  our  Colonial  history.     , 

The  region  watered  by  the  upper  Ohio  and  its 
tributary  streams  was  for  fifty  years  the  battle-ground 
where  the  French  and  their  Indian  allies,  and  afterwards 
the  Indians  alone,  strove  to  drive  back  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  race  as  it  moved  westward.  The  country  there 
was  rich  and  beautiful,  but  what  made  its  possession 
especially  desirable  was  the  fact  that  it  was  the 
strategic  key  to  the  great  West.  The  French,  under- 
standing its  importance,  established  their  fortresses 
and  trading-posts  as  bulwarks  against  the  army  of 


f 


4 


t 


I  / 


MISS  ZANE'S  EXPLOIT. 


89 


English  settlers  advancing  from  the  East,  and  also 
instructed  their  savage  allies  in  the  art  of  war. 

The  Indian  tribes  in  that  region  were  warlike  and 
powerful,  and  for  sorae  years  it  seemed  as  if  the 
country  would  be  effectually  barred  against  the  access 
of  the  Eastern  pioneer.  But  the  same  school  that 
reared  and  trained  the  daughters  and  grand-daughters 
of  the  Pilgrims,  and  of  the  settlers  of  Jamestown, 
and  fitted  them  to  cope  with  the  perils  and  hardships 
of  the  wilderness,  and  to  battle  with  hostile  aboriginal 
tribes,  also  fitted  their  descendants  for  new  struggles 
on  a  wider  field  and  against  more  desperate  odds. 
The  courage  and  fortitude  of  men  and  women  alike 
rose  to  the  occasion,  and  in  those  scenes  of  danger 
and  carnage,  the  presence  of  mind  displayed  by 
women  especially,  have  been  frequent  themes  of 
panegyric  by  the  border  annalists. 
*The  scene  wherein  Miss  Elizabeth  Zane,  one  of 
these  heroines,  played  so  conspicuous  a  part,  was  at 
Fort  Henry,  near  the  present  city  of  Wheeling,  Vir- 
ginia, in  the  latter  part  of  November,  1782.  Of  the 
forty-two  men  who  originally  composed  the  garrisons, 
nearly  all  had  been  drawn  into  an  ambush  and 
slaughtered.  The  Indians,  to  the  number  of  several 
hundred,  surrounded  the  garrison  which  numbered  no 
more  than  twelve  men  and  boys. 

A  brisk  fire  upon  the  fort  was  kept  up  for  six  hours 
by  the  savages,  who  at  times  rushed  close  up  to  the 
palisades  and  received  the  reward  of  their  temerity 
from  the  rifles  of  tli  frontiersmen.  In  the  afternoon 
the  stock  of  powder  was  nearly  exhausted.  There 
was  a  keg  in  a  house  ten  or  twelve  rods  from  the  gate 
of  the  fort,  and  the  question  arose,  who  shall  attempt 


*  Delliias. 


90      TEE  BLOCK-UOUSE,  AND  ON  THE  INDIAN  TRAIL. 

to  seize  this  prize?  Strange  to  say,  every  soldier 
proffered  his  services,  and  there  was  an  avdent  con- 
tention among  them  for  the  honor.  In  the  weak  state 
of  the  garrison,  Colonel  Shiepard,  the  commander, 
deemed  it  advisable  that  only  one  person  could  be 
spared ;  and  in  the  midst  of  the  confusion,  before  any 
one  could  be  designated,  Elizabeth  Zane  interrupted 
the  debate,  saying  that  her  life  was  not  so  important 
at  that  time  as  any  one  of  the  soldiers,  and  claiming 
the  privilege  of  performing  the  contested  services. 
The  Colonel  would  not  at  first  listen  to  her  proposal, 
but  she  was  so  resolute,  so  persevering  in  her  plea, 
and  her  argument  was  so  powerful,  that  he  finally 
suffered  the  gate  to  be  opened,  and  she  passed  out. 
The  Indians  saw  her  before  she  reached  her  brother's 
house,  where  the  keg  was  deposited;  but  for  some 
cause  unknown,  they  did  not  molest  her  until  she  re- 
appeared with  the  article  under  her  arm.  Probably, 
divining  the  nature  of  her  burden,  they  discharged  a 
volley  as  she  was  running  towards  the  gate,  but  the 
whizzing  balls  only  gave  agility  to  her  feet,  and  her- 
self and  the  prize  were  quickly  safe  within  the  gate. 

The  successful  issue  of  this  perilous  enterprise  in- 
fused new  spirit  into  the  garrison ;  re-enforcements 
soon  reached  them,  the  assailants  were  forced  to  beat 
a  precipitate  retreat,  and  Fort  Henry  and  the  whole 
frontier  was  saved,  thanks  to  the  heroism  of  Elizabeth 
Zane! 

*  The  heroines  of  Bryant's  Station  deserve  a  place  on 
the  roll  of  honor,  beside  the  name  of  the  preserver  of 
Fort  Henry,  since  like  her  their  courage  preserved  a 

garrison  from  destruction.     We  condense  the  story 

% 

*  AlcClung'a  Sketches  of  Western  Adventure. 


/ 


■^ww 


•SPW" 


y 


\ 


'  I 


I  ! 


A  BAND  OF  HEROINES. 


9| 


from  the  several  sources  from  which  it  has  come  down 
to  us. 

The  station,  consisting  of  about  forty  cabins  ranged 
in  parallel  lines,  stood  upon  a  gentle  rise  on  the  south- 
ern banks  of  the  Elkhorn,  near  Lexington,  Kentucky. 
One  morning  in  August,  1782,  an  army  of  six  hundred 
Indians  appeared  before  it  as  suddenly  as  if  they  had 
risen  out  of  the  earth.  One  hundred  picked  warriots 
made  a  feint  on  one  side  of  the  fort,  trying  to  entice 
the  men  out  from  behind  the  stockade,  while  the  re- 
mainder were  concealed  in  ambush  near  the  spring 
with  which  the  garrison  was  suppUed  with  water.  The 
most  experienced  of  the  defenders  understood  the 
tactics  of  their  wily  foes,  and  shrewdly  guessed  that 
an  ambuscade  had  been  prepared  in  order  to  cut  off 
the  garrison  from  access  to  the  spring.  The  water  in 
the  station  was  already  exhausted,  and  unless  a  fresh 
supply  could  be  obtained  the  most  dreadful  sufferings 
were  apprehended.  It  was  thought  probable  that  the 
Indians  in  ambush  would  not  unmask  themselves  until 
they  saw  indications  that  the  party  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  fort  had  succeeded  in  enticing  the  soldiers  to  an 
open  engagement. 

*  Acting  upon  this  impression,  and  yielding  to  the 
urgent  necessity  of  the  case,  they  summoned  all  the 
women,  without  exception,  and  explaining  to  them 
the  circumstances  in  which  they  were  placed,  and  the 
improbability  that  any  injury  would  be  done  them, 
until  the  firing  had  been  returned  from  the  opposite 
side  of  the  fort,  they  urged  them  to  go  in  a  body  to 
the  spring,  and  each  to  bring  up  a  bucket  full  of 
water.  Some,  as  was  natural,  had  no  relish  for  the 
undertaking;  they  observed  they  were  not  bullet- 


*  McClung's  Sketches  of  Western  AdvCiitiue. 


F 


[\ 


92      TEE  BLOCK-HOUSE,  AND  ON  THE  INDIAN  TRAIL. 

proof,  and  asked  why  the  men  could  not  bring  the 
water  as  well  as  themselves ;  adding  that  the  Indians 
made  no  distinction  between  male  and  female  scalps. 

To  this  it  was  answered,  that  women  were  in  the 
habit  of  bringing  water  every  morning  to  the  fort,  and 
that  if  the  Indians  saw  them  engaged  as  usual,  it 
would  induce  them  to  believe  that  their  ambuscade 
was  undiscovered,  and  that  they  would  not  unmask 
themselves  for  the  sake  of  firing  at  a  few  women, 
when  they  hoped,  by  remaining  concealed  a  few  mo- 
ments longer  to  obtain  complete  possession  of  the  fort ; 
that  if  men  should  go  down  to  the  spring,  the  Indians 
would  immediately  suspect  that  something  was  wrong, 
would  despair  of  succeeding  by  ambuscade,  and  would 
instantly  rush  upon  them,  follow  them  into  the  fort, 
or  shoot  them  down  at  the  spring.  The  decision  was 
soon  made. 

A  few  of  the  boldest  declared  their  readiness  to 
brave  the  danger,  and  the  younger  and  more  timid 
rallying  in  the  rear  of  these  veterans,  they  all  marched 
down  in  a  body  t  j»  the  spring,  within  point  blank  shot 
of  more  than  five  hundred  Indian  warriors !  Some  of 
the  girls  could  not  help  betraying  symptoms  of  terror, 
but  the  married  women,  in  general,  moved  with  a 
steadiness  and  composure  which  completely  deceived 
the  Indians.  Not  a  shot  was  fired.  The  party  were 
permitted  to  fill  their  buckets,  one  after  another,  with- 
out interruption,  and  although  their  steps  became 
quicker  and  quicker,  on  their  return,  and  when  near 
the  gate  of  the  fort,  degenerated  into  a  rather  un-mil- 
itary  celerity,  attended  with  some  little  crowding  in 
passing  the  gate,  yet  only  a  small  portion  of  the  water 
was  spilled.    The  brave  water  carriers  were  received 


^ 
i 


i 


% 


)•; 


HEROINES  OF  THE  BORDER. 


93 


with  open  arms  and  loud  cheers  by  the  garrison,  who 
hailed  them  as  their  preservers,  and  the  Indians  shortly 
after  retired,  baffled  and  cursing  themselves  for  being 
outwitted  by  the  "  white  squaws." 

The  annals  of  the  border-wars  in  the  region  of 
which  we  have  been  speaking  abound  in  stories  where 
women  have  been  the  victors  in  hand-to-hand  fights  with 
savages.  In  all  these  combats  we  may  note  the  spirit 
that  inspired  those  brave  women  with  such  wonderful 
strength  and  courage,  transforming  them  from  gentle 
matrons  into  brave  soldiers.  It  was  love  for  their 
children,  their  husbands,  their  kindred,  or  their  homes 
rather  than  the  selfish  instinct  of  self-preservation 
which  impelled  Mrs.  Porter,  the  two  Mrs.  Cooks,  Mrs. 
Merrill,  and  Mrs.  Bozarth  to  perform  those  feats  of 
prowess  and  daring  which  will  make  their  names  live 
for  ever  in  the  thrilling  story  of  border-warfare. 

The  scene  where  Mrs.  Porter  acted  her  amazing 
part  was  in  Huntingdon  county,  Pennsylvania,  and 
the  time  was  during  the  terrible  war  instigated  by  the 
great  Pontiac.  While  sitting  by  the  window  of  her 
cabin,  awaiting  the  return  of  her  husband,  who  had 
gone  to  the  mill,  she  caught  sight  of  an  Indian  ap- 
proaching the  door.  Taking  her  husband's  sword  from 
the  wall  where  it  hung,  she  planted  herself  behind  the 
door;  and  when  the  Indian  entered  she  struck  with 
all  her  might,  splitting  his  skull  and  stretching  him  a 
corpse  upon  the  floor.  Another  savage  entered  and 
met  the  same  fate.  A  third  seeing  the  slaughter  of 
his  companions  prudently  retired. 

Dropping  the  bloody  weapon,  she  next  seized  the 
loaded  gun  which  stood  beside  her  and  retreated  to 
the  upper  story  looking  for  an  opportunity  to  shoot 


94      THE  BLOCK-HOUSE,  AND  ON  THE  INDIAN  TRAIL. 


the  savage  from  the  port-holes.  The  Indian  pursued 
her  and  as  he  set  foot  upon  the  upper  floor  received 
the  contents  of  her  gun  full  in  the  chest  and  fell  dead 
in  his  tracks.  Cautiously  reconnoitering  in  all  direc- 
tions and  seeing  the  field  clear  she  fled  swiftly  toward 
the  mill  and  meeting  her  husband,  both  rode  to  a 
neighboring  block-house  where  they  found  refuge  and 
aid.  The  next  morning  it  was  discovered  that  other 
Indians  had  burned  their  cabin,  partly  out  of  revenge 
and  partly  to  conceal  their  discomfiture  by  a  woman. 
The  bones  of  the  three  savages  found  among  the  o,she? 
were  ghastly  trophies  of  Mrs.  Porter's  extraordinary 
achievement. 

In  Nelson  county,  Kentuc^cy,  on  a  midsummer  nighty 
in  1787,  just  before  the  gray  light  of  morning,  John 
Merrill,  attracted  by  the  barking  of  his  dog,  went  to 
the  door  of  his  cabin  to  reconnoiter.  Scarcely  had  he 
left  the  threshold,  when  he  received  the  fire  of  six  or 
seven  Indians,  by  which  his  arm  and  thigh  were  both 
broken.  He  managed  to  crawl  inside  the  cabin  and 
shouted  to  his  wife  to  shut  the  door.  Scarcely  had 
she  succeeded  in  doing  so  when  the  tomahawks  of  the 
enemy  were  hew  wig  a  breach  into  the  apartment. 
•  Mrs.  Merrill,  with  Amazonian  courage  and  strength, 
grasped  a  large  axe  and  killed,  or  badly  wounded,  four 
of  the  enemy  in  succession  as  they  attempted  to  force 
their  way  into  the  cabin. 

The  Indians  then  ascended  the  roof  and  attempted 
to  enter  by  way  of  the  chimney,  but  here,  again,  they 
were  met  by  the  same  determined  enemy.  Mrs.  Mer- 
rill seized  the  only  feather-bed  which  the  cabin  af- 
forded, and  hastily  ripping  it  open,  poured  its  contents 
upon  the  fire.  A  furious  blaze  and  stifling  smoke  as- 
cended the  chimney,  and  quickly  brought  down  two 


■ 


*  McClung's  Sketchps  of  "Western  Adventure. 


s 


1 1 


"LONG  KNIFE  SQUAW." 


95 


of  the  enemy,  who  lay  for  a  few  moments  at  the 
mercy  of  the  lady.  Seizing  the  axe,  she  despatched 
them,  and  was  instantly  summoned  to  the  door,  where 
the  only  remaining  savage  appeared,  endeav^oring  to 
effect  an  entrance,  while  Mrs.  Merrill  was  engaged  at 
the  chimney.  He  soon  received  a  gash  in  the  cheek 
which  compelled  him  with  a  loud  yell  to  relinquish  his 
purpose,  and  return  hastily  to  Chillicothe,  where,  from 
the  report  of  a  prisoner,  he  gave  an  exaggerated  ac- 
count  of  the  fierceness,  strength,  and  courage  of  the 
"Long  knife  squaw!" 

The  wives  of  Jesse  and  Hosea  Cook,  the  "  heroines 
of  Innis  station  "  (Kentu  j;>3  ),  as  they  have  been  styled, 
are  shining  exan^ples  of  a  firmness  of  spirit  which 
sorrow  could  not  blench  nor  tears  dim. 

While  the  brothers  Cook  were  peacefully  engaged 
in  the  avocations  of  the  farm  beside  their  cabins,  in 
April,  1792,  little  dreaming  of  the  proximity  of  the 
savages,  a  sharp  crack  cf  rifles  was  heard  and  they 
both  lay  weltering  in  their  blood.  The  elder  fell  dead, 
the  younger  was  barely  able  to  reach  his  cabin. 

The  two  Mrs.  Cooks  with  three  children  were  in- 
stantly collected  in  the  house  and  the  door  made  fast. 
The  thickness  of  the  door  resisted  the  hail  of  rifle- 
balls  which  fell  upon  it,  and  the  Indians  tried  in  vain 
to  cut  through  it  with  their  tomahawks. 

While  the  assault  was  being  made  on  the  outside  of 
the  cabin,  within  was  heart-rending  sorrow  mingled 
with  fearless  determination  and  high  resolve.  The 
younger  Cook  while  the  door  was  being  barred 
breathed  his  last  ir  the  arms  of  his  wife,  and  the  two 
Mrs.  Cooks,  thus  sadly  bereaved  of  their  partners, 
were  left  the  sole  defenders  of  the  cabin  and  the  three 
children. 


SB 


■'liWJfHBMSE 


■  trt.-wur.v;«':Y'i4*-C:*;JA*.-»i^.T.", 


1 1  i! 


I 


95      TUE  BLOCKHOUSE,  AND  OS  TUE    SWIAN  TRAIL. 

There  was  a  rifle  in  the  house  but  no  balls  could  be 
found.  In  this  extremity  one  of  the  women  took  a 
musket-ball  and  placing  it  between  her  teeth  bit  it 
into  pieces.  Her  eyes  streaming  with  tears,  she  loaded 
the  rifle  and  took  her  position  at  an  aperture  from 
which  she  could  watch  the  motions  of  the  savages. 
She  dried  her  tears  and  thought  of  vengeance  on  her 
husband's  murderers  and  of  saving  the  innocent  babes 
which  she  was  guarding. 

After  the  failure  of  the  Indians  to  break  down  the 
door,  one  of  them  seated  himself  upon  a  log,  appre- 
hending no  danger  from  the  "white  squaws"  who,  he 
knew,  were  the  only  defenders  of  the  cabin.  A  ball 
sped  from  the  rifle  in  the  hands  of  Mrs.  Cook,  and 
with  a  loud  yell  the  savage  bounded  into  the  air  and 
fell  dead. 

The  Indians,  infuriated  at  the  death  of  their  com- 
rade, threatened  in  broken  English,  the  direst  ven- 
geance on  the  inmates  of  the  cabin.  A  half  dozen  of 
the  yelling  fiends  instantly  climbed  to  the  roof  of  the 
cabin  and  kindled  a  fire  upon  the  dry  boards  around 
the  chimney.  As  the  flames  began  to  take  effect  the 
destruction  of  the  cabin  and  the  doom  of  the  unfortu- 
nate inmates  seemed  certain. 

But  the  self-possession  and  intrepidity  of  the  brave 
women  were  equal  to  the  occasion.  While  one  stood 
in  the  loft  the  other  handed  her  water  with  which  she 
extinguished  the  fire.  Again  and  again  the  roof  was 
fired,  and  as  often  extinguished.  When  the  water 
was  exhausted,  the  dauntless  pair  held  the  flames  at 
bay  by  breaking  eggs  upon  them.  The  Indians,  at 
length  fatigued  by  the  obstinacy  and  valor  of  the 
brave  defenders,  threw  the  body  of  their  comrade  into 
the  creek  and  precipitately  fled. 


1^- 


\ 


THE  BRAVERY  OF  MRS.  BOZARTH. 


97 


4. 


*-i 


The  exploits  of  Mrs.  Bozarth  in  defending  her  home 
and  family  against  superior  numbers,  has  scarcely  been 
paralleled  in  ancient  or  modern  history.  Relying 
upon  her  firmness  and  courage,  two  or  three  families 
had  gathered  themselves  for  safety  at  her  house,  on 
the  Pennsylvania  border,  in  the  spring  of  1779.  The 
forest  swarmed  with  savages,  who  soon  made  their 
fippearance  near  the  stockade,  severely  wounding  one 
of  the  only  two  men  in  the  house.  *  The  Indian  who 
had  shot  him,  springing  over  his  prostrate  body, 
engaged  with  the  other  white  man  in  a  struggle  which 
ended  in  his  discomfiture.  A  knife  was  wanting  to 
dispatch  the  savage  who  lay  writhing  beneath  his 
antagonist.  Mrs.  Bozarth  seized  an  axe  and  with  one 
blow  clove  the  Indian's  skull.  Another  entered  and 
shot  the  white  man  dead.  Mrs.  Bozarth,  with 
unflinching  boldness,  turned  to  this  new  foe  and  gave 
him  several  cuts  with  the  axe,  one  of  which  laid  bare 
his  entrails.  In  response  to  his  cries  for  help,  his 
comrades,  who  had  been  killing  some  children  out  of 
doors,  came  rushing  to  his  relief.  The  head  of  one  of 
them  was  cut  in  twain  by  the  axe  of  Mrs.  Bozarth,  and 
the  others  made  a  speedy  retreat  through  the  door. 
Rendered  furious  by  the  desperate  resistance  they  had 
met,  the  Indians  now  beaeiged  the  house,  and  for 
several  days  they  employed  all  their  arts  to  enter  and 
slay  the  weak  garrison.  But  all  their  efforts  were 
futile.  Mrs.  Bozarth  and  her  wounded  companion 
employed  themselves  so  vig'^rously  and  vigilantly  that 
the  enemy  were  completely  baffled.  At  length  a 
party  of  white  men  arrived,  put  the  Indians  to  flight, 
and  relieved  Mrs.  Bozarth  from  her  perilous'  situation. 


J:' 


*  Doddridgc^s  Notes. 

7 


OHAPTEE   Y. 


T 


f 


THE  CAPTIVE  SCOUTS:— THE  GUARDIAN  MOTHER  OF  THE 

MOHAWK. 

THE  part  that  woman  has  taken  in  so  many  ways 
and  under  so  many  conditions,  in  securing  the 
ultimate  results  represented  by  our  present  status  as 
a  nation,  is  given  too  small  a  place  in  the  general  esti- 
mate of  those  who  pen  the  record  of  civilization  on  the 
North  American  continent.  This  is  no  doubt  partly  due 
to  her  own  distaste  for  notoriety.  While  man  stands 
as  a  front  figure  in  the  temple  of  fame,  and  celebrates 
his  own  deeds  with  pen  and  voice,  she  takes  her  place 
in  the  background,  content  and  happy  so  long  as  her 
father,  or  husband,  or  son,  is  conspicuous  in  the  glory 
to  which  she  has  largely  contributed.  Thus  it  is  that 
in  the  march  of  grand  events  the  historian  of  the  Re- 
public often  passes  by  the  woman's  niche  without 
dwelling  upon  its  claims  to  our  attention.  But  not- 
withstanding the  self-chosen  position  of  the  weaker 
sex,  their  names  and  deeds  are  not  all  buried  in  obliv- 
ion. The  filial,  proud,  and  patriotic  fondness  of  sons 
and  daughters  have  preserved  in  their  household  tra- 
ditions the  memory  of  brave  and  good  mothers ;  the 
antiquarian  and  the  local  hiutorian,  with  loving  zeal 
have  wiped  the  dust  from  woman's  urn,  and  traced 
anew  the  names  and  inscriptions  which  time  has  half 
effaced. 
As  we  scan  the  pages  of  "Woman's  Record  the  roll 

(98) 


i    i>» 


WOMAN  AS  A  SENTINEL. 


90 


.. 


1  i>* 


j. 


of  honor  lengthens,  stretching  far  out  like  the  line  of 
Banquo's  phantom-kings.  Their  names  become  im- 
pressed on  our  memory ;  their  acts  dilate,  and  their; 
whole  lives  grow  brighter  the  more  closely  we  study 
them. 

Among  the  many  duties  which  from  necessity  or 
choice  were  assigned  to  woman  in  the  remote  and 
isolated  settlements,  was  that  of  standing  guard.  She 
was  par  excellence  the  vigilant  member  of  the  house- 
hold, a  sentinel  ever  on  the  alert  and  ready  to  give 
alarm  at  the  first  note  of  danger.  The  pioneers  were 
the  pickets  of  the  army  of  civilization:  woman  was 
a.  picket  of  pickets,  a  sentinel  of  sentinels,  watch- 
ful of  danger  and  the  quickest  to  apprehend  it.  She 
was  always  a  guardian,  and  not  seldom  the  preserver 
of  her  home  and  of  the  settlement  Such  duties  as 
these,  faithfully  performed,  contribute  perhaps  to  the 
success  of  a  campaign  more  even  than  great  battles. 
As  soon  as  the  front  line  or  picket-force  of  the  pioneers 
was  fairly  established  in  the  enemies*  country,  the 
work  was  more  than  half  done,  and  the  whole  army — 
center,  right,  and  left  wings — could  move  forward 
with  little  danger,  though  labor,  hard  and  continuous, 
was  still  required.  In  successive  regions  the  same 
sentinel  and  picket  duties  were  performed ;  in  New 
England  and  on  the  Atlantic  coast  first ;  then  in  the 
interior  districts,  in  the  middle  States;  and  already, 
a  hundred  years  ago,  the  flying  skirmish-line  had 
crossed  the  great  Appalachian  range,  and  was  fording 
the  rivers  of  the  western  basin.  On  the  march,  on 
the  halt,  in  the  camp,  that  is,  in  the  permanent  settle- 
ment, woman  was  a  sentinel  keeping  perpetual  guard 
over  the  household  treasures. 


f 


100 


THE  CAPTIVE  SCOUTS. 


s 


What  materials  for  romance— for  epic  and  tragic 
poetry — in  the  lives  of  those  pioneer  women !  The 
lonely  cabin  in  the  depths  of  the  forest ;  the  father 
away ;  the  mother  rocking  her  babe  to  sleep  j  the 
howling  of  the  wolves ;  the  storm  beating  on  the  roof; 
the  crafty  savage  lying  in  ambush ;  the  war-whoop  in 
the  night ;  the  attack  and  the  repulse ;  or  perchance 
the  massacre  and  the  cruel  captivity;  and  all  the 
thousand  lights  and  shadows  of  border  life  ! 

During  the  French  and  Indian  war,  and  while  the 
*  northern  border  was  being  desolated  by  savage  raids, 
a  hardy  settler  named  Mack,  with  his  wife  and  two 
children,  occupied  a  cabin  and  clearing  in  the  forest  a 
few  miles  south  of  Lako  Pleasant,  in  Hamilton  County, 
New  York.  For  some  months  after  the  breaking  out 
of  the  war  no  molestrtion  was  offered  to  Mr.  Mnok  or 
his  family,  either  owing  to  the  sequestered  SKuatioD 
in  which  they  lived,  or  from  the  richer  opportunities 
for  plunder  offered  in  the  valleys  some  distance  beloTi 
the  lonely  and  rock-encompassed  forest  where  the 
Mack  homestead  lay.  Encouraged  by  this  immunity 
from  attack,  and  placing  unbounded  confidence  in  the 
vigilance  and  courage  of  his  wife,  Mr.  Mack,  when 
summoned  to  accompany  Sir  William  Johnson's  forces 
on  one  of  their  military  expeditions,  obeyed  the  call 
and  prepared  to  join  his  fellow-borderers.  Mrs.  Mack 
cheerfully  and  patriotically  acquiesced  in  her  husband's 
resolution,  assuring  him  that  during  his  absent  e  she 
would  protect  their  home  and  children  or  perish  in 
the  attempt. 

The  cabin  was  a  fortress,  such  as  befitted  the  exposed 
situation  in  which  it  lay,  and  was  supplied  by  the 
provident  husband  before  his  departure  with  provisions 


MRS.  MACK'S  PLEDGE. 


101 


ih 


and  ammunition  sufficient  to  stand  a  siege :  it  was  fur- 
nished on  each  side  with  a  loop-hole  through  which  a 
gun  could  be  fixed  or  a  reconnoisance  made  in  every 
direction. 

Yielding  to  the  dictates  of  prudence  and  desirous  of 
redeeming  the  pledge  which  she  had  made  to  her  hus- 
band, Mrs.  Mack  stayed  within  doors  most  of  the  time 
for  some  days  after  her  husband  had  bade  her  farewell, 
keeping  a  vigilant  look-out  on  every  side  for  the 
prowling  foe.  No  sound  but  the  voices  of  nature  dis- 
turbed the  stillness  of  the  forest.  Everything  around 
spoke  of  peace  and  repose.  Lulled  into  security  by 
these  appearances  and  urged  by  the  necessities  of  her 
out-door  duties,  she  gradually  relaxed  her  vigilance 
until  she  pursued  the  labors  of  the  farm  with  as  much 
regularity  as  she  would  have  done  if  her  husband  had 
been  at  home. 

One  day  while  plucking  ears  of  corn  for  roasting, 
she  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  moccasin  and  a  brawny 
limb  fringed  with  leggins,  projecting  behind  a  clump 
of  bushes  not  twenty  paces  from  her.  Repressing  the 
shriek  which  rose  to  her  lips,  she  quietly  and  leisurely 
strolled  back  to  the  house  with  her  basket  of  ears. 
Once  she  thought  she  heard  the  stealthy  tread  of  the 
savage  behind  her  and  was  about  to  breal*  into  a  run ; 
but  a  moment's  reLt^-aon  convinced  her  that  her  fears 
were  groundless.  She  steadily  pursued  her  course  till 
she  reached  the  cabin.  With  a  vast  weight  of  fear 
taken  from  her  mind  she  now  turned  and  cast  a  rapid 
glance  towards  the  bushes  where  the  foe  lay  in  ambush ; 
nothing  was  visible  there,  and  having  closed  and  barred 
the  door  she  made  a  reconnoisance  from  each  of  the 


^mm 


f02 


THE  CAPTIVE  SCOUTS. 


four  loop-holes  of  her  fortress,  but  saw  nothing  to 
alarm  her. 

It  seemed  to  her  probable  that  it  was  only  a  single 
prowling  savage  who  was  seeking  an  opportunity  to 
plunder  the  cabin.  Accordingly  with  a  loaded  gun 
by  her  side,  she  sat  down  before  the  loop-hole  which 
commanded  the  spot  where  the  savage  lay  concealed 
and  watched  for  further  developments.  For  two  hours 
all  was  still  and  she  began  to  imagine  that  he  had  left 
his  hiding  place,  when  she  noticed  a  rustling  in  the 
bushes  and  soon  after  descried  the  savage  crawling  on 
his  belly  and  disappearing  in  the  cornfield.  Night 
fouid  her  still  watching,  and  as  soon  as  her  children 
had  been  lulled  to  sleep,  she  returned  to  her  post  and 
straining  her  eyes  into  the  darkness,  listened  for  the 
faintest  sound  that  might  give  note  of  the  approach 
of  the  enemy.  It  was  near  midnight  when  overcome 
with  fatigue  she  leaned  against  the  log  wall  and  fell 
asleep  with  her  gun  in  her  hand. 

She  was  conscious  in  her  slumbers  of  some  mesmeric 
power  exerting  an  influence  upon  her,  and  awakening 
with  a  start  saw  for  an  instant  by  the  faint  light,  a  pair 
of  snaky  eyes  looking  directly  into  hers  through  the 
loop-hole.  They  were  gone  before  she  w.is  fairly 
awake,  and  she  tried  to  convince  herself  that  she  had 
been  dreaming.  Not  a  sound  was  audible,  and  titter 
taking  an  observation  from  each  of  the  loop-holes  she 
became  persuaded  that  the  fierce  eyes  that  seemed  to 
have  been  watching  her  was  the  figment  of  a  brain 
disturbed  by  anxiety  and  vigils. 

Once  more  sleep  overcame  her  and  again  she  was 
awakened  by  a  rattling  sound  followed  by  heavy 
breathing.     The  noise  seemed  to  proceed  frc.n  the 


5 


A  NIGHT  OF  TERROR  IQS 

chimney  to  which  she  had  scarcely  began  to  direct  her 
attentio-,,  when  a  large  body  fell  with  a  thud  into  the 
ashes  of  the  fire-place,  and  a  deep  guttural  "ugh"  was 
uttered  by  an  Indian  who  rose  and  peered  around  the 
room. 

The  first  flickering  light  which  follows  the  black- 
ness of  midnight,  gave  him  a  glimpse  of  the  heroic 
matron  who  stood  with  her  piece  cocked  and  leveled 
directly  at  his  breast.  Brandishing  his  tomahawk  he 
rushed  towards  her  yelling  so  as  to  disconcert  her  aim. 
The  brave  woman  with  unshaken  nerves  pulled  the 
trigger,  and  the  savage  fell  back  with  a  screechy  dead 
upon  the  floor.  Almost  simultaneously  with  the  re- 
port of  the  gun,  a  triumphant  warwhoop  was  sounded 
outside  the  cabin,  and  peering  through  the  aperture  in 
the  direction  from  which  it  proceeded  she  saw  three 
savages  rushing  toward  the  door.  Rapidly  loading 
her  piece  she  took  her  position  at  the  loop-hole  that 
commanded  the  entrance  to  the  cabin,  and  taking  aim, 
shot  one  savage  dead,  the  ball  passing  completely 
through  his  body  and  wounding  another  who  stood  in 
range.  The  third  made  a  precipitate  retreat,  leaving 
his  wounded  comrade  who  crawled  into  the  cornfield 
and  there  died. 

After  the  occurrence  of  these  events  we  may  well 
suppose  that  the  life  of  Mrs.  Mack  was  one  of  constant 
vigilance.  For  some  days  and  nights  she  stood  senti- 
nel over  her  little  ones,  and  then  in  her  dread  lest  the 
Indians  should  return  and  take  vengeance  upon  her 
and  her  children  for  the  slaughter  of  their  compan- 
ions, she  concluded  the  wisest  course  would  be  to  take 
refuge  in  the  nearest  fort  thirty  miles  distant.  Accord- 
ingly the  following  week  she  made  all  her  preparations 


lap 


104 


THE  CAPTIVE  SCOUTS. 


and  carrying  her  gun  started  for  the  fort  with  her 
children. 

Before  they  had  proceeded  a  mile  on  their  course 
she  had  the  misfortune  to  drop  her  powder-horn  in  a 
stream :  this  compelled  her  to  return  to  the  cabin  for 
ammunition.  Hiding  her  children  in  a  dense  copse 
and  telling  them  to  preserve  silence  during  her  ab- 
sence, she  hastened  back,  fiUed  her  powder-horn  and 
returned  rapidly  upon  her  trail. 

But  what  was  her  agony  on  discovering  that  her 
children  were  missing  from  the  place  where  she  left 
them!  A  brief  scrutiny  of  the  ground  showed  her 
the  tracks  of  moccasins,  and  following  them  she  soon 
ascertained  that  her  children  had  been  carried  away 
by  two  Indians.  Like  the  tigress  robbed  of  her  young, 
she  followed  the  trail  swiftly  bit  cautiously  and  soon 
came  up  with  the  savage?,  whose  speed  had  been  re- 
tarded by  the  children.  Stealing  behind  them  she  shot 
one  of  them  and  clubbing  her  gun  rushed  at  the  other 
with  such  fierceness  that  he  turned  and  fled. 

Pursuing  her  way  to  the  fort  she  met  her  husband 
returning  home  from  the  war.  The  family  then  re- 
traced their  steps  and  reached  their  home,  the  scene 
of  Mrs.  Mack's  heroic  exploit. 

It  was  during  their  captivities  that  women  often 
learned  the  arts  and  practiced  the  perilous  profes- 
sion of  a  scout.  Their  Indian  captors  were  some- 
times the  first  to  suffer  from  the  knowledge  which  they 
themselves  had  taught  their  captive  pupils.  In  this 
rugged  school  of  Indian  life  was  nurtured  a  brave  girl 
of  New  England  parentage,  who  acted  a  conspicuous 
part  in  protecting  an  infant  settlement  in  Ohio. 
•  In  the  year  1790,  the  block-house   and  stockade 

*rinley'8  Autobiography. 


ASSEMBLING  OF  THE  EOSTILES.  JAg 

above  the  mouth  of  the  Hockhocking  river  in  Ohio, 
•was  a  refuge  and  rallying  point  for  the  hardy  fron- 
tiersmen of  that  region.  The  valley  of  the  Hock- 
hocking was  preeminent  for  the  richness  and  lux- 
uriance of  nature's  gifts,  and  had  been  from  time 
immemorial  the  seat  of  powerful  and  warlike  tribes 
of  Indians,  which  still  clung  with  desperate  tenacity 
to  a  region  which  had  been  for  so  many  years  the 
chosen  and  beloved  abode  of  the  red  man. 

The  little  garrison,  always  on  the  alert,  received 
intelligence  early  in  the  autumn  that  the  Indian  tribes 
were  gathering  in  the  north  for  the  purpose  of  strik- 
ing a  final  and  fatal  blow  on  this  or  some  other  im- 
portant out-post.  A  council  was  immediately  held  by 
the  garrison,  and  two  scouts  were  dispatched  up  the 
Hockhocking,  in  order  to  ascertain  the  strength  of  the 
foe  and  the  probable  point  of  attack. 

The  scouts  set  out  one  balmy  day  in  the  Indian  sum- 
mer, and  threading  the  dense  growth  of  plum  and  hazel 
bushes  which  skirted  the  prairie,  stealthily  climbed  the 
eastern  declivity  of  Mount  Pleasant,  and  cast  their 
eyes  over  the  extensive  prairie-country  which  stretches 
from  that  point  far  to  the  north.  Every  movement 
that  took  place  upon  their  field  of  vision  was  carefully 
noted  da  7  by  day.  The  prairie  was  the  campus  mar- 
tins  where  an  army  of  braves  had  assembled,  and  were 
playing  their  rugged  games  and  performing  their  war- 
like evolutions.  Every  day  new  accessions  of  warriors 
were  hailed  by  those  already  assembled,  with  terrific 
war-whoops,  which,  striking  the  face  of  Mount  Pleas- 
ant, were  echoed  and  re-echoed  till  it  seemed  as  if  a 
myriad  of  yelling  demons  were  celebrating  the  orgies 
of  the  infernal  pit. 


106 


THE  CAPTIVE  SCOUTS. 


To  the  hardy  scouts  these  well-known  yells,  so  terri 
ble  to  softer  ears,  were  only  martial  music  which 
woke  a  keener  watchfulness  and  strung  their  iron 
nerves  to  a  stronger  tension.  Though  well  aware  of 
the  ferocity  of  the  savages,  they  were  too  well  prac- 
ticed in  the  crafty  and  subtle  arts  of  their  profession  to 
allow  themselves  to  be  circumvented  by  their  wily 
foes. 

On  several  occasions  small  parties  of  warriors  left 
the  prairies  and  ascended  the  mount.  At  these  times 
the  scouts  hid  themselves  in  fissures  of  the  rocks  or 
beneath  sere  leaves  by  the  side  of  some  prostrate  tree, 
leaving  their  hiding  places  when  the  unwelcome  vis- 
itors had  taken  their  departure^  Their  food  was 
jerked  beef  and  cold  corn-bread,  with  which  their 
knapsacks  had  been  well  stored.  Fire  they  dared  not 
'  kindle  for  the  smoke  would  have  brought  a  hundred 
savages  on  their  trail.  Their  drink  was  the  rain-water 
remaining  in  the  excavations  in  the  rocks.  In  a  few 
days  this  water  was  exhausted,  and  a  new  supply  had 
to  be  obtained,  as  their  observations  were  still  incom- 
plete. McClelland,  the  elder  of  the  two,  accordingly 
set  out  alone  in  search  of  a  spring  or  brook  from 
which  they  could  replenish  their  canteens.  Cau- 
tiously descending  the  mount  to  the  prairie,  and  skirt- 
ing the  hills  on  the  north,  keeping  as  much  as  possible 
within  the  hazel-thickets,  he  reached  at  length  a  foun- 
tain of  cool  limpid  water  near  the  banks  of  the  Hock- 
hocking  river.  Filling  the  canteens  he  rejoined  his 
companion. 

The  daily  duty  of  visiting  the  spring  and  obtaining 
a  fresh  supply,  was  after  this  performed  alternately 
by  the  scouts.     On  one  of  these  diurnal  visits,  after 


A  SQJJAW'S  WAR-WHOOP. 


107 


White  had  filled  his  canteens,  he  sat  watching  the 
limpid  stream  that  came  gurgling  out  of  the  bosom  of 
the  earth.  The  light  sound  of  footsteps  caught  his 
practiced  ear,  and  turning  round  he  saw  two  squaws 
within  a  few  feet  of  him.  The  elder  squaw  at  the 
same  moment  spying  White,  started  back  and  gave  a 
far-reaching  war-whoop.  He  comprehended  at  once 
his  perilous  situation.  If  the  alarm  should  reach  the 
camp,  he  and  his  companion  must  inevitably  perish. 

A  noiseless  death  inflicted  upon  the  squaws,  and  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  leave  no  trace  behind,  was  the 
only  sure  course  which  the  instinct  of  self-preservation 
suggested.  With  men  of  his  profession  action  follows 
thought  as  the  bolt  follows  the  flash.  Springing  upon 
his  victims  with  the  rapidity  and  power  of  a  tiger,  he 
grasped  the  throat  of  each  and  sprang  into  the  Hock- 
hocking  river.  The  head  of  the  elder  squaw  he  easily 
thrust  under  the  water,  and  kept  it  in  that  position ; 
but  the  younger  woman  powerfully  resisted  his  efforts 
to  submerge  her.  During  the  brief  struggle  she  ad- 
dressed him  to  his  amazement  in  the  English  language, 
though  in  inarticulate  sounds.  Eelaxing  his  hold  she 
informed  him  that  she  had  been  made  a  prisoner  ten 
years  before,  on  Grave  Creek  Flats,  that  the  Indians 
in  her  presence  had  butchered  her  mother  and  two 
sisters,  and  that  an  only  brother  had  been  captured 
with  her,  but  had  succeeded  on  the  second  night  in 
making  his  escape,  since  which  time  she  had  never 
heard  of  him. 

During  this  narrative.  White,  unobserved  by  the 
girl,  had  released  his  grip  on  the  throat  of  the  squaw, 
whose  corpse  floated  slowly  down  stream,  and,  direct- 
ing the  girl  to  follow  him,  he  pushed  for  the  Mount 


108 


THE  CAPTIVE  SCOUTS. 


with  the  greatest  speed  and  energy.  Scarcely  had 
they  proceeded  two  hundred  yards  from  the  spring 
before  an  Indian  alarm-cry  was  heard  some  distance 
down  the  river.  A  party  of  warriors  returning  from 
a  hunt  had  seen  the  body  of  the  squaw  as  it  floated 
past.  White  and  the  girl  succeeded  in  reaching  the 
Mount  where  they  found  McClelland  fully  awake  to  the 
danger  they  were  in.  From  his  eyrie  he  had  seen 
parties  of  warriors  strike  off  in  every  direction  on 
hearing  the  shrill  note  of  alarm  first  sounded  by  the 
squaw,  and  before  White  and  the  girl  had  joined  him, 
twenty  warriors  had  already  gained  the  eastern  accliv- 
ity of  the  Mount  and  were  cautiously  ascending,  keep- 
ing their  bodies  under  cover.  The  scouts  soon  caught 
glimpses  of  their  swarthy  faces  as  they  glided  from 
tree  to  tree  and  from  rock  to  rock,  until  the  hiding 
place  of  the  luckless  two  was  surrounded  and  all  hope 
of  escape  was  cut  off. 

•  The  scouts  calmly  prepared  to  sell  their  lives  as 
dearly  as  they  could,  but  strongly  advised  the  girl  to 
return  to  the  Indians  and  tell  them  that  she  had  been 
captured  by  scouts.  This  she  refused  to  do,  saying 
that  death  among  her  own  people  was  preferable  to 
captivity  such  as  she  had  been  enduring.  "  Give  me 
a  rifle,"  she  continued,"  and  I  will  show  you  that  I 
can  fight  as  well  as  die !  On  this  spot  will  I  remain, 
and  here  my  bones  shall  bleach  with  yours !  Should 
either  of  you  escape,  you  will  carry  the  tidings  of  my 
fate  to  my  remaining  relatives." 

All  remonstrances  with  the  brave  girl  proving  use- 
less, the  two  scouts  prepared  for  a  vigorous  defense. 
The  attack  by  the  Indians  commenced  in  front,  where 
from  the  nature  of  the  ground  they  were  obliged  to 


•"•Jum^smiS^it 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  SHOT. 


109 


advance  in  single  file,  sheltering  themselves  as  they 
best  could,  behind  rocks  and  trees.  Availing  them- 
selves of  the  slightest  exposure  of  the  warriors'  bodies, 
the  scouts  made  every  shot  tell  upon  them,  and  suc- 
ceeded for  a  time  in  keeping  them  in  check. 

The  Indians  meanwhile  made  for  an  isolated  rock  on 
the  southern  hillside,  and  having  reached  it,  opened 
fire  upon  the  scouts  at  point  blank  range.  The  situa- 
tion of  the  defenders  was  now  almost  hopeless;  but 
the  brave  never  despair.  They  calmly  watched  the 
movements  of  the  warriors  and  calculated  the  few 
chances  of  escape  which  remained.  McClelland  saw 
a  tall,  swarthy  figure  preparing  to  spring  from  cover 
to  a  point  from  which  their  position  would  be  com- 
pletely commanded.  He  felt  that  much  depended 
upon  one  lucky  shot,  and  although  but  a  single  inch  of 
the  warrior's  body  was  exposed,  and  at  a  distance  of 
one  hundred  yards,  yet  he  resolved  to  take  the  risk  of 
a  shot  at  this  diminutive  target.  Coolly  raising  the 
rifle  to  his  eye,  and  shading  the  sight  with  his  hand, 
he  threw  a  bead  so  accurately  that  he  felt  perfectly 
confident  that  his  bullet  would  pierce  the  mark ;  but 
when  the  hammer  fell,  instead  of  striking  fire,  it 
crushed  his  flint  into  a  hundred  fragments.  Rapidly, 
but  with  the  utmost  composure,  he  proceeded  to  adjust 
a  new  flint,  casting  meantime  many  a  furtive  glance 
towards  the  critical  point.  Befoie  his  task  was  com- 
pleted he  saw  the  warrior  strain  every  muscle  for  the 
leap,  and,  with  the  agility  of  a  deer,  bound  towards 
the  rock ;  but  instead  of  reaching  it,  he  fell  between 
and  rolled  fifty  feet  down  hill.  He  had  received  a 
death-shot  from  some  unseen  hand,  auv.  the  mournful 


110 


THE  CAPTIVE  SCOUTS. 


•whoops  of  the  savages  gave  token  that  they  had  lost 
a  favorite  warrior. 

The  advantage  thus  gained  was  only  momentary. 
The  Indians  slowly  advanced  in  front  and  on  the  flank, 
and  only  the  incessant  fire  of  the  scouts  sufficed  to 
keep  them  in  check.  A  second  savage  attempted  to 
gain  the  eminence  which  commanded  the  position 
where  the  scouts  were  posted,  but  just  as  he  was 
about  to  attain  his  object,  McClelland  saw  him  turn  a 
summerset,  and,  with  a  frightful  yell,  fall  down  the 
hill,  a  corpse.  The  mysterious  agent  had  again  inter- 
posed in  their  behalf  The  sun  was  now  disappearing 
behind  the  western  hills,  and  the  savages,  dismayed  by 
their  losses,  retired  a  short  distance  for  the  purpose  of 
devising  some  new  mode  of  attack.  This  respite  was 
most  welcome  to  the  scouts,  whose  nerves  had  been 
kept  in  a  state  of  severe  tension  for  several  hours. 
Now  for  the  first  time  they  missed  the  girl  and  sup* 
•posed  that  she  had  either  fled  to  her  old  captors  or  had 
been  killed  in  the  fight.  Their  doubts  were  soon 
dispelled  by  the  appearance  of  the  girl  herself* 
advancing  toward  them  from  among  the  rocks,  with  a 
rifle  in  her  hand. 

During  the  heat  of  the  fight  she  had  seen  a  warrior 
fall,  who  had  advanced  some  fifty  yards  in  front  of  the 
main  body;  she  at  once  resolved  to  possess  herself  of 
his  rifle,  and  crouching  in  the  undergrowth,  she  crept 
to  the  spot  and  succeeded  in  her  enterprise,  being  all 
the  time  exposed  to  the  cross-fire  of  the  defenders 
and  assailants;  her  practiced  eye  had  early  noticed 
the  fatal  rock,  and  hers  was  the  mysterious  hand  by 
which  the  two  warriors  had  fallen — the  last  being  the 
most  wary,  untiring,  and  bloodthirsty  brave  of  the 


.;4^iM: 


NEW  DANGERS. 


Ill 


Shawanese  tribe.  He  it  was  who  ten  years  before  had 
scalped  the  family  of  the  girl,  and  had  led  her  into 
captivity.  The  clouds  which  had  been  gathering 
now  shrouded  the  whole  heavens,  and,  night  coming,' 
on,  the  darkness  was  intense.  It  was  feared  that  in 
the  contemplated  retreat  they  might  lose  their  way  or 
accidentally  fall  in  with  the  enemy,  which  latter  contin- 
gency was  highly  probable,  if  not  almost  inevitable. 
After  consultation  it  was  agreed  that  the  girl,  from, 
her  intimate  knowledge  of  the  localities,  should  lead 
the  way,  a  few  paces  in  advance. 

Another  advantage  might  be  derived  from  this 
arrangement,  for  in  case  they  should  fall  in  with  an 
outpost  of  savages,  the  girl's  knowledge  of  the  Indian 
tongue  might  enable  them  to  deceive  and  elude  the 
sentinel.  The  event  proved  the  wisdom  of  the  plan, 
for  they  had  scarcely  descended  an  hundred  feet  from 
their  eyrie  when  a  low  "hush ! "  from  the  girl  warned 
them  of  the  presence  of  danger.  The  scouts  threw 
themselves  silentl}'  upon  the  earth,  where  by  previous 
agreement  they  were  to  remain  until  another  signal 
was  given  them  by  the  girl,  who  glided  away  in  the 
darkness.  Her  absence  for  more  than  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  had  already  begun  to  c::cite  serious  apprehen- 
sions for  her  safety,  when  she  reappeared  and  told 
them  that  she  had  succeeded  in  removing  two  senti- 
nels who  were  directly  in  their  route,  to  a  point  one 
hundred  feet  distant. 

The  descent  Avas  noiselessly  resumed,  the  scouts  fol- 
lowing their  brave  guide  for  half  a  mile  in  profound 
silence,  when  the  barking  of  a  small  dog,  almost  at 
their  feet,  apprised  them  of  a  new  danger.  The 
click  of  the  scout's  rifle  caught  the  ear  of  the  girl, 


iJWlii 


^maa 


112        ^^^  GUARDIAN  MOTHER  OF  THE  MOHAWK. 

■who  quickly  approached  and  warned  them  against 
making  the  least  noise,  as  they  were  now  in  the  midst 
of  an  Indian  village,  and  their  lives  depended  upon 
their  implicitly  following  her  instructions. 

A  moment  afterwards  the  head  of  a  squaw  was  seen 
at  an  opening  in  a  wigwam,  and  she  was  heard  to  accost 
the  girl,  who  replied  in  the  Indian  language,  and  with- 
out stopping  pressed  forward.  At  length  she  paused 
and  assured  the  scouts  that  the  village  was  cleared, 
and  that  they  were  now  in  safety.  She  had  been  well 
aware  that  every  pass  leading  out  through,  the  prairies 
was  guarded,  and  resolved  to  push  boldly  through  the 
midst  of  the  village  as  the  safest  route. 

After  three  days  rapid  marching  and  great  suffering 
from  hunger,  the  trio  succeeded  in  reaching  the  block- 
house in  safety.  The  Indians  finding  that  the  scouts  had 
escaped,  and  that  their  plan  of  attack  was  discovered, 
soon  after  withdrew  to  their  hemes ;  the  girl,  who  by 
her  courage,  fortitude,  and  skill,  thus  pret.'^rved  tha 
little  settlement  from  destruction,  proved  to  be  a  sister 
of  Neil  "Washburn,  one  of  the  most  renowned  scouts 
upon  the  frontier. 

The  situation  of  the  earlier  pioneers  who  settled  on 
the  outskirts  of  the  Mississippi  basin  was  one  of  pe- 
culiar peril.  In  their  isolation  and  weakness,  they 
were  able  to  keep  their  position  rather  by  incessant 
watchfulness,  than  by  actual  combat.  How  to  extri- 
cate themselves  from  the  snares  and  escape  from  the 
dangers  that  beset  them,  was  the  constant  study  of 
their  lives.  The  knowledge  and  the  arts  of  a  scout 
were  a  part  of  the  education,  therefore,  of  the  women 
as  well  as  of  the  men. 

Mossy  Herbeson  and  her  husband  were  of  those 


THE  CAPTIVE  SCOUT. 


113 


bold  pioneers  who  crossed  the  Alleghany  Mountains 
and  joined  the  picket-line,  whose  lives  were  spent  in 
reconnoitering  and  watching  the  motions  of  the  savage 
tribes  which  roamed  over  Western  Pennsylvania. 
*  They  lived  near  Reed's  block-house,  about  twenty- 
five  miles  from  Pittsburgh.  Mr.  Herbeson,  being  one 
of  the  spies,  was  from  home ;  two  of  the  scouts  had 
lodged  with  her  that  night,  but  had  left  her  house 
about  sunrise,  in  order  to  go  to  the  block-house,  and  had 
left  the  door  standing  wide  open.  Shortly  after  the 
two  scouts  went  away,  a  number  of  Indians  came  into 
the  house,  and  drew  her  out  of  bed,  by  the  feet. 

The  Indians  then  scrambled  to  secure  the  articles  in 
the  house.  Whilst  they  were  at  this  work,  Mrs.  Her- 
beson went  out  of  the  house,  and  hallooed  to  the  peo- 
ple in  the  block-house.  One  of  the  Indians  then  ran 
up  and  stopped  her  mouth,  another  threatened  her 
with  his  tomahawk,  and  a  third  seized  the  tomahawk 
as  it  was  about  to  fall  upon  her  head,  and  called  her 
his  squaw. 

Hurried  rapidly  away  by  her  captor,  she  remembered 
the  lessons  taught  by  her  husband,  the  scout,  and 
marked  the  trail  as  she  went  on.  Now  breaking  a 
bush,  now  dropping  a  piece  of  her  dress,  and  when 
she  crossed  a  stream,  slyly  turning  over  a  stone,  she 
hoped  thus  to  guide  her  husband  in  pursuit  or  enable 
herself  to  find  her  way  back  to  the  block-house.  The 
vigilance  of  the  Indians  was  relaxed  by  the  nonchal- 
ance with  which  she  bore  her  captivity,  and  in  a  few 
days  she  succeeded  in  effecting  her  escape  and  pursu- 
ing the  trail  which  she  had  marked,  reached  home 
after  a  weary  march  of  two  days  and  nights,  during 
which  it  rained  incessantly. 

*.Miis8cy  Ilcrbc^ou's  Deposition. 


mm 


mmmm 


114        THE  GUARDIAN  MOTHER  OF  THE  MOHA  WK. 

These  and  countless  other  instances  illustrate  the 
watchfulness  and  courage  of  woman  when  exposed  to 
dangers  of  such  a  description.  In  the  west  especially, 
the  distances  to  be  traversed,  the  sparseness  of  the 
population,  and  the  perils  to  which  settlers  are  exposed, 
render  the  profession  of  a  scout  a  useful  and  necessary 
one,  and  woman's  versatility  of  character  enables  her, 
when  necessary,  to  practice  the  art. 

The  traveler  of  to-day,  passing  up  the  Mohawk  Val- 
ley will  be  struck  by  its  fertility,  beauty,  and  above  all 
by  the  air  of  quiet  repose  that  broods  over  it.  One  huui 
dred  years  ago  how  different  the  scene  !  It  was  then 
the  battle-ground  where  the  fierce  Indian  waged  an 
incessant  warfare  with  the  frontier  settlers.  Every 
rood  of  that  fair  valley  was  trodden  by  the  wily  and 
sanguinary  foe.  The  people  who  then  inhabited  that 
region  were  a  mixture  of  adventurous  New  England* 
ers  and  of  Dutch,  with  a  preponderance  of  the  latter, 
who  were  a  brave,  steadfast,  hardy  race ;  the  women 
vieing  with  the  men  in  deeds  of  heroism  and  devo> 
tion. 

"Womanly  tact  and  presence  of  mind  was  often  as 
serviceable  amid  those  scenes  of  danger  and  carnage, 
as  valor  in  combat ;  and  wiien  woman  combined  these 
traits  of  her  sex  with  courage  and  firmness  she  became 
the  "  guardian  angel "  of  the  settlement. 

Such  preeminently  was  the  title  deserved  by  Mrs. 
"Van  Alstine,  the  "  Patriot  mother  of  the  Mohawk  Val- 

ley." 

All  the  early  part  of  her  long  life,  (for  she  counted 
nearly  a  century  of  years  before  she  died,)  was  passed 
on  the  New  York  frontier,  during  the  most  trying 
period  of  our  colonial  history.     Here,  dwelling  in  the 


t 


-» 


t 


A  FEMININE  STRATEGY. 


115 


midst  of  alarms,  she  reared  her  fifteen  children ;  here 
more  than  once  she  saved  the  lives  of  her  husband  and 
family,  and  by  her  ready  wit,  her  daring  courage,  and 
her  open-handed  generosity  shielded  the  settlement 
from  harm. 

Born  near  Canajoharie,  about  the  year  1733,  and 
married  to  Martin  J.  Van  AlstinC;  at  the  age  of  eigh- 
teen, she  settled  with  her  husband  in  the  valley  of 
the  Mohawk,  where  the  newly  wedded  pair  occupied 
the  Van  Alstine  family  mansion. 

In  the  month  of  August,  1780,  an  army  of  Indians 
and  Tories,  led  on  by  Brant,  rushed  into  the  Mohawk 
Valley,  devastated  several  settlements,  and  killed  many 
of  the  inhabitants ;  during  the  two  following  months, 
Sir  John  Johnson  made  a  descent  and  finished  the 
work  which  Brant  had  begun.  The  two  almost  com- 
pletely destroyed  the  settlements  throughout  the  val- 
ley. It  was  during  those  trying  times  that  Mrs.  Van 
Alstine  performed  a  portion  of  her  exploits. 

During  these  three  months,  and  while  the  hostile 
forces  were  making  their  headquarters  at  Johnstown, 
the  neighborhood  in  which  Mrs.  Van  Alstine  lived  en- 
joyed a  remarkable  immunity  from  attack,  although  in 
a  state  of  continual  alarm.  Intelligence  at  length  came 
that  the  enemy,  having  ravaged  the  surrounding  coun- 
try, was  about  to  fall  upon  the  little  settlement,  and 
the  inhabitants,  for  the  most  part  women  and  children, 
were  almost  beside  themselves  with  terror. 

Mrs.  Van  Alstine's  coolness  and  intrepidity,  in  this 
critical  hour,  were  quickly  displayed.  Calling  her 
neighbors  together,  she  tried  to  relieve  their  fears  and 
urged  them  to  remove  with  their  effects  to  an  island 
belonging  to  her  husband,  near  the  opposite  side  of  the 


» 


116        THE  GUARDIAN  MOTHER  OF  THE  MOHAWK. 

river,  believing  that  the  savages  would  either  not  dis- 
cover their  place  of  refuge  or  would  be  in  too  great 
haste  to  cross  the  river  and  attack  them. 

Her  suggestion  was  speedily  adopted,  and  in  a  few 
hours  the  seven  families  in  the  neighborhood  were  re- 
moved to  their  asylum,  together  with  a  store  of  pro- 
visions and  other  articles  essential  to  their  comfort. 
Mrs.  Van  Alstine  was  the  last  to  cross  and  assisted  to 
place  out  of  reach  of  the  enemy,  the  boat  in  which 
the  passage  had  been  made.  An  hour  after  they  had 
been  all  snugly  bestowed  in  their  bushy  retreat,  the 
war-whoop  was  heard  and  the  Indians  made  their  ap 
pearance.  Gazing  from  their  hiding  place  the  unf or- 
nate women  and  children  soon  saw  their  loved  homes 
in  flames.  Van  Alstine's  house  alone  being  spared,  ow- 
ing to  the  friendship  borne  the  owner  by  Sir  John 
Johnson. 

The  voices  and  even  the  words  of  the  Indian  raid- 
ers could  be  distinctly  heard  on  the  island,  and  as 
Mrs.  Van  Alstine  gazed  at  the  mansion  untouched  by 
the  flames  she  rejoiced  that  she  would  now  be  able  to 
give  shelter  to  the  homeless  families  by  whom  she  was 
surrounded.  In  the  following  year  the  Van  Alstine 
mansion  was  pillaged  by  the  Indians,  and  although 
the  house  was  completely  stripped  of  furniture  and 
provisions  and  clothing,  none  of  the  family  were  killed 
or  carried  away  as  prisoners. 

The  Indians  came  upon  them  by  surprise,  entered 
the  house  without  ceremony,  and  plundered  and  de- 
stroyed everything  in  their  way.  "  Mrs.  Van  Alstine 
saw  h-  most  volued  articles,  brought  from  Holland, 
broke  »ne  after  another,  till  the  house  was  strewed 
with  frajj,inents.     As  they  passed  a  large  mirror  with- 


as 


ri^ 


,~mSi 


^ 


i: 


^ 


A  DARING  ENTERPRISE. 


117 


1' 


/V 


f 


out  demolishing  it,  she  hoped  it  might  be  saved ;  but 
presently  two  of  the  savages  led  in  a  colt  from  the 
stables  and  the  glass  being  laid  in  the  hall,  compelled 
the  animal  to  walk  over  it.  The  beds  which  they 
could  not  carry  away  they  ripped  open,  shaking  out 
the  feathers  and  taking  the  ticks  with  them.  They 
also  took  all  the  clothing.  One  young  Indian,  attracted 
by  the  brilliancy  of  a  pair  of  inlaid  buckles  on  the 
shoes  of  the  aged  grandmother  seated  in  the  comer, 
rudely  snatched  them  from  her  feet,  tore  off  the  buck- 
les, and  flung  the  shoes  in  her  face.  Another  took 
her  shawl  from  her  neck,  threatening  to  kill  her  if  re- 
sistance was  offered." 

The  eldest  daughter,  seeing  a  young  savage  carry- 
ing off  a  basket  containing  a  hat  and  cap  her  father 
had  brought  her  from  Philadelphia,  and  which  she 
highly  prized,  followed  him,  snatched  her  basket,  and 
uf  ter  a  struggle  succeeded  in  pushing  him  down.  She 
ihen  fled  to  a  pile  of  hemp  and  hid  herself,  throwing 
ihe  basket  into  it  as  far  as  she  could.  The  other  Indi- 
ans gathered  round,  and  as  the  young  girl  rose  clapped 
their  hands,  shouting  "  Brave  girl,"  while  he  skulked 
away  to  escape  their  derision.  During  the  struggle 
Mrs.  Van  -Alstine  had  called  to  her  daughter  to  give 
up  the  contest;  but  she  insisted  that  her  basket  should 
not  be  taken. 

Winter  coming  on,  the  family  suffered  severely  from 
the  want  of  bedding,  wbolen  clothes,  cooking  utensils, 
and  numerous  other  articles  which  had  been  taken  from 
them.  Mrs.  Van  Alstine's  arduous  and  constant  labors 
could  do  but  little  toward  providing  for  so  many  desti- 
tute persons.  Their  neighbors  were  in  no  condition 
to  help  them ;  the  roads  were  almost  impassable  be- 


r^ 


' 


218        THE  GUARDIAN  MOTHER  OF  THE  MOHA  WK. 

sides  being  infested  with  the  Indians,  and  all  their  best 
horses  had  been  driven  away. 

This  situation  appealing  continually  to  Mrs.  Van 
Alstine  as  a  wife  and  a  mother,  so  wrought  upon  her 
as  to  induce  her  to  propose  to  her  husband  to  organ- 
ize an  expedition,  and  attempt  to  recover  their  prop- 
erty  from  the  Indian  forts  eighteen  or  twenty  miles 
distant,  where  it  had  been  carried.  But  the  plan 
seemed  scarcely  feasible  at  the  time,  and  was  therefore 
abandoned. 

The  cold  soon  became  intense  and  their  necessities 
more  desperate  than  ever.  Mrs.  Van  Alstine,  incapable 
longer  of  witnessing  the  sufferings  of  those  dependent 
upon  her,  boldly  determined  to  go  herself  to  the  In- 
dian country  and  bring  back  the  property.  Firm 
against  all  the  entreaties  of  her  husband  and  children 
who  sought  to  move  her  from  her  purpose,  she  left 
hoiie  with  a  horse  and  sleigh  accompanied  by  her  son, 
a  youth  of  sixteen. 

Pushing  on  over  wretched  roads  and  through  the 
deep  snow  she  arrived  at  her  destination  at  a  time 
when  the  Indians  v/ere  all  absent  on  a  hunting  excur- 
sion, the  women  and  children  only  being  left  at  home. 
On  entering  the  principal  house  where  she  supposed 
the  most  valuable  articles  were,  she  was  met  by  an  old 
squaw  in  charge  of  the  place  and  asked  what  she 
wanted.  "Food,"  she  replied;  the  squaw  siillenly 
commenced  preparing  a  meal  and  in  doing  so  brought 
out  a  number  of  utensils  that  Mrs.  Van  Alstinerrecog- 
nized  as  her  own.  While  the  squaw's  back  was  turned 
she  took  possession  of  the  articles  and  removed  them 
to  her  sleigh.  When  the  custodian  of  the  plunder 
discovered  that  it  was  being  reclaimed,  she  was  about 


A  BRAVE  EXPLOIT. 


119 


t 


to  interfere  forcibly  with  the  bold  intruders  and  take 
the  property  into  her  possession.  But  Mrs.  Van  Als- 
tine  showed  her  a  paper  which  she  averred  was  an  or- 
der signed  by  "Yankee  Peter,"  a  man  of  great  influ- 
ence among  the  savages,  and  succeeded  in  convincing 
the  squaw  that  the  property  was  removed  by  his  au. 
thority. 

She  next  proceeded  to  the  stables  and  cut  the  halters 
of  the  horses  belonging  to  her  husband:  the  animals 
recognized  their  mistress  with  loud  neighs  and  bounded 
homeward  at  full  speed.  The  mother  and  son  then 
drove  rapidly  back  to  their  house.  Reaching  home  late 
in  the  evening  they  passed  a  sleepless  night,  dreading 
an  instant  pursuit  and  a  night  attack  from  the  in- 
furiated savages. 

The  Indians  came  soon  after  daylight  in  full  war- 
costume  armed  with  rifles  and  tomahawks.  Mrs.  Van 
Alstine  begged  her  husband  not  to  show  himself  but 
to  leave  the  matter  in  her  hands.  The  Indians  took 
their  course  to  the  stables  when  they  were  met  by  the 
daring  v/oman  alone  and  asked  what  they  wanted. 
"  Our  horses,"  replied  the  marauder.  "  They  are  ours," 
she  said  boldly,  "and  we  mean  to  keep  them." 

The  chief  approached  in  a  threatening  manner,  and 
drawing  her  away  pulled  out  the  plug  that  fastened 
the  door  of  the  stable,  but  she  immediatel}'  snatched 
it  from  his  hand,  and  pushing  him  away  resumed  her 
position  in  front  of  the  door.  Presenting  his  rifle,  he 
threatened  her  with  instant  death  if  she  did  not  im- 
mediately move.  Opening  her  neck-handkerchief  she 
told  him  to  shoot  if  he  dared. 

The  Indians,  cowed  by  her  daring,  or  fearing  pun- 
ishment from  their  allies  in  case  they  killed  her,  after 


m^ 


120       ^^^  GUARDIAN  MOTHER  OF  THE  MOHAWK. 

some  hesitation  retired  from  the  premises.  They  af- 
terwards related  their  adventure  to  one  of  the  settlers, 
and  said  that  were  fifty  such  women  as  she  in  the 
settlement,  the  Indians  never  would  have  molested  the 
inhabitants  of  the  Mohawk  Valley. 

On  many  subsequent  occasions  Mrs.  Van  Alstine 
exhibited  the  heroic  qualities  of  her  nature.  Twice 
by  her  prudence,  courage,  and  address,  she  saved  the 
lives  of  her  husband  and  family.  Her  influence  in 
settling  difficulties  with  the  savages  was  acknowledged 
throughout  the  region,  and  but  for  her  it  may  well  be 
doubted  whether  the  little  settlement  in  which  she 
lived  would  have  been  able  to  sustain  itself,  surrounded 
as  it  was  by  deadly  foes. 

Her  influence  was  felt  in  another  and  higher  way. 
She  was  a  Christian  woman,  and  her  husband's  house 
was  opened  for  religious  worship  every  Sunday  when 
the  weather  would  permit.  She  was  able  to  persuade 
many  of  the  Indians  to  attend,  and  as  she  had  ac- 
quired their  language  she  was  wont  to  interpret  to 
them  the  word  of  God  and  what  was  said  by  the  min- 
ister. Many  times  their  rude  hearts  were  touched, 
and  the  tears  rolled  down  their  swarthy  faces,  while 
she  dwelt  on  the  wondrous  story  of  our  Redeemer's 
life  and  death,  and  explained  how  the  white  man  and 
the  red  man  alike  could  be  saved  by  the  grace  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  In  after  years  the  savages  blessed 
her  as  their  benefactress. 

Nearly  a  hundred  summers  have  passed  since  the 
occurrence  of  the  events  we  have  been  describing. 
The  war-whoop  of  the  cruel  Mohawk  sounds  no  more 
from  the  forest-ambush,  nor  in  the  clearing ;  the  dews 
and  rains  h.we  washed  away  the  red  stains  on  the 


-  \ 


^. 


PATRIOT  WOMEN  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 


121 


soft  sward,  and  green  and  peaceful  in  the  sunshine  lies 
the  turf  by  the  beautiful  river  and  on  the  grave  where 
the  patriot  mother  is  sleeping ;  but  still  in  the  mem- 
ory of  the  sons  and  daughters  of  the  region  she  once 
blessed,  lives  the  courage,  the  firmness,  and  the  good- 
ness of  Nancy  Van  Alstine,  the  guardian  of  the  Mo- 
hawk Valley. 


■♦»» 


CHAPTEH   YI. 


* 


PATRIOT  WOMEN  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

"T~\URING  the  dangers  and  trials  of  early  colonial 
X-^  life,  the  daughters  learned  from  the  example  of 
their  mothers  the  lesson  and  the  power  of  self-trust ; 
they  learned  to  endure  what  their  parents  endured,  to 
Tace  the  perils  which  environed  the  settlement  or  the 
household,  and  grew  up  to  woman's  estate  versed  in 
that  knowledge  and  experience  of  border-life  which 
well  fitted  them  to  repeat,  in  wilder  and  more  perilous 
scenes,  the  heroism  of  their  forefathers  and  fore- 
mothers.  '     : 

The  daughters  again  taught  these,  and  added  other 
lessons,  to  their  children.  The  grand-daughters  of  the 
first  emigrants  seemed  to  possess — with  the  traits  and 
virtues  of  woman — the  wisdom,  courage,  and  strength 
of  their  fathers  and  brothers.  Each  succeeding  gen- 
eration seemed  to  acquire  new  features  of  character, 
added  force,  and  stronger  virtues,  and  thus  woman 
became    a   heroine  endowed  with  manly  vigor  and 


r 


•,.i;,i..i.iwipiiw 


122 


PATRIOT  WOMEN  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 


capable  of  performing  deeds  of  masculine  courage  and 
resolution. 

The  generation  of  daughters,  fourth  in  descent 
from  the  first  settlers,  lived  during  the  stormy  days  of 
the  Revolution ;  and  right  worthily  did  they  perform 
their  part  on  that  stage  of  action,  and  prove  by  their 
deeds  that  they  were  lineal  descendants  of  the  first 
mothers  of  the  Republic. 

If  we  were  to  analyze  the  characters  and  motives 
of  the  women  who  lived  and  acted  in  that  great  crisis 
of  our  history,  we  should  better  understand  and 
appreciate,  in  its  nature,  height,  and  breadth,  their 
singular  patriotism.  Untainted  by  selfish  ambition, 
undefiled  by  greed  of  gain,  and  purged  of  the  earthy 
dross  that  too  often  alloys  the  lofty  impulses  of 
soldiers  and  statesmen  in  the  path  of  fame,  hers  wag 
a  love  of  country  that  looked  not  for  gain  or  glory, 
imperiled  much,  and  was  locked  fast  in  a  bitter  com- 
panionship with  anxiety,  fear,  and  grisf  Her  heroism 
was  not  sordid  or  secular.  Dearly  did  she  prize  the 
blessings  of  peace — household  calm,  the  security  of 
her  loved  ones,  and  t'le  comforts  and  amenities  of  an 
unbroken  social  status.  But  she  cheerfully  surren- 
dered them  all  at  the  call  of  her  country  in  its  hour 
of  peril.  For  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  she  had 
toiled  and  suffered.  She  had  won  the  right  to  repose, 
but  this  was  not  yet  to  be  hers.  A  new  ordeal  await- 
ed her  which  would  test  her  courage  and  fortitude 
still  more  keenly,  especially  if  her  lot  was  cast  in  the 
frontier  settlements. 

It  is  easy  to  see  that  border-life  in — 

"  the  times  that  tried  men's  souls  "— 


} 


^ 


f 


UNSELFISH  PATRIOTISM. 


123 


ii)m 


was  surrounded  by  double  dangers  and  hardships. 
Indeed  it  is  difficult  to  conceive  of  a  more  trying  situ- 
ation than  that  of  woman  in  the  outlying  settlements 
in  the  days  of  the  Revolution.  Left  alone  by  her 
natural  protector,  who  had  gone  far  away  to  fight  the 
battles  of  his  country;  exposed  to  attacks  from  the 
red  men  who  lurked  in  the  forest,  or  from  the  British 
soldiers  marching  up  from  the  coast ;  wearied  by  the 
labors  of  the  farm  and  the  household ;  harassed  by 
the  cares  of  motherhood  ;  for  long  years  in  the  midst 
of  dangers,  privations,  and  trials ;  with  serene  patience, 
and  with  dauntless  courage,  she  went  on  nobly  doing 
her  part  in  the  great  work  which  resulted  in  the 
glorious  achievement  of  American  Independence. 

The  wonder  is  that  the  American  wives  and  mothers 
of  that  day  did  not  sink  under  their  burdens,  lueir 
patient  endurance  of  accumulated  hardships  did  not 
arise  from  a  slavish  servility  or  from  insensibility  to 
their  rights  and  comforts.  They  justly  appreciated 
the  situation  and  nobly  encountered  the  difficulties 
which  could  not  be  avoided. 

Possessing  all  the  affections  of  the  wife,  the  tender- 
ness of  the  mother,  and  the  sympathies  of  the  wo  nan, 
their  tears  flowed  freely  for  others'  griefs,  while  they 
bore  their  own  with  a  fortitude  that  none  but  a  woman 
could  display.  In  the  absence  of  the  father  the  entire 
education  devolved  upon  the  mother,  who,  in  the 
midst  of  the  labors  and  sorrows  of  her  isolated  exist- 
ence, taught  them  to  read,  and  instructed  them  in  the 
principles  of  Christianity. 

The  countless  roll  of  these  unnamed  heroines  is 
inscribed  in  the  Book  of  the  Most  Just.  Their  record 
is  on  high.     But  the  names  and  deeds  of  not  a  few 


'i&miiM&^ 


&-ita^i^-*^V  iMvetuum 


124 


PATRIOT  WOMEN  OF  TUE  REVOLUTIOl 


are  preserved  as  a  bright  example  to  the  men  and 
women  of  to-day. 

While  the  hiirbandri  and  fathers  of  "Wyoming  were 
on  public  duty  the  wives  and  daughters  cheerfully 
assumed  a  large  portion  of  the  labor  which  women 
could  perform.  They  assisted  to  plant,  to  make  hay, 
to  husk,  and  to  garner  the  corn.  The  settlement  was 
mainly  dependent  on  its  own  resources  for  powder. 
To  meet  the  necessary  demand,  the  women  boiled 
together  a  ley  of  wood-ashes,  to  which  they  added  the 
earth  scraped  from  beneath  the  floors  of  their  house, 
and  thus  manufactured  saltpeter,  one  of  the  most 
essential  ingredients.  Charcoal  and  sulphur  were  then 
mingled  with  it,  and  powder  was  produced  "for  the 
public  defense." 

One  of  the  married  sisters  of  Silas  Deane,  that 
eminent  Revolutionary  patriot,  while  her  husband. 
Captain  Ebenezer  Smith,  was  with  the  army,  was  left 
alone  with  six  small  children  in  a  hamlet  among  the 
hills  of  Berkshire,  Massachusetts.  Finding  it  difficult 
to  eke  out  a  subsistence  from  the  sterile  soil  of  their 
f}»rm,  and  being  quick  and  ingenious  with  her  needle, 
she  turned  tailoress  and  made  garments  for  Lor  little 
ones,  and  for  all  the  families  in  that  region.  She 
wrote  he'  iiusband,  telling  him  to  be  of  good  cheer, 
ond  not  to  give  himself  anxi<^ty  on  his  wife's  or  his 
children's  account,  adding  that  as  long  as  her  fingers 
could  hold  a  needle,  food  .should  be  provided  for  them. 
"  Fight  on  for  your  country,"  she  said ;  "  God  will  give 
us  deliverance." 

Each  section  of  the  country  had  its  special  burdens, 
trials,  and  dangers.  The  populous  districts  bore  the 
first  brunt  of  the  enemy's  attack;  the  thinly  settled 


**> 


A  QUARTETTE  OF  HEROINES. 


125 


": 


regions  were  drained  of  men,  and  the  women  were 
left  in  a  pitiable  condition  of  weakness  and  isolation. 
This  was  largely  the  condition  of  Massachusetts  and 
Connecticut,  where  nearly  every  fariily  sent  some,  if 
not  all,  of  its  men  to  the  war.  In  the  South  the 
patriots  were  forced  to  practice  continual  vigilance  in 
consequence  of  the  divided  feeling  upon  the  question 
of  the  propriety  of  separation  from  the  mother-coun- 
try. New  York,  New  Jersey,  and  Pennsylvania  were 
battle  grounds,  and  here,  perhaps  more  fully  than 
elsev/h'^re,  were  experienced  war's  woes  and  desolation. 
E'  •  "  'cry  State  throughout  the  thirteen  colonies, 
ana  in  every  town,  hamlet,  or  household,  where  there 
were  patriot  wives,  mothers^  or  daughters,  woman's 
claims  to  moral  greatness  in  that  crisis  were  gloriously 
vindicated. 

If  we  were  to  search  for  traits  and  incidents  to 
illustrate  the  whole  circle  of  both  the  stronger  and 
the  gentler  virtues,  we  might  find  them  in  woman's 
record  during  the  American  Revolution. 

In  scenes  of  carnage  and  death  women  not  seldom 
displayed  a  cc  «!  rourage  which  made  them  peers  of 
the  bravest  i:iie  s  who  bore  flint-locks  at  Bunker 
Hill  or  Ti  r*  "^\  Of  such  bravery,  the  following 
quartette  of  hei  >  liet?  will  nerve  as  examples. 

During  the  attack  on  Fort  Washington,  Mrs.  Mar- 
garet Corbin,  seeing  her  husband,  who  was  en  artillery 
man,  fall,  unhesitatingly  took  his  place  and  hex'-oically 
performed  his  duties.  Her  services  were  appreciated 
by  the  officers  of  the  army,  and  honorably  noticed 
l\y  Congr-  '  This  body  passed  the  following  reso- 
iUuon  in  '    Vj  1779: 


<«» ■'■WIIWH 


'.JMMII-LIU wwwwg—— — r  -  -  ■"- 


IPPPPIBP 


fia 


126 


PATRIOT  WOMFN  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 


Resolved,  That  Margaret  Corbin,  wounded  and  disabled  at  the  battle 
of  Fort  Washington  while  she  heroically  fihed  the  post  of  her  husband, 
who  was  killed  by  her  side,  serving  a  piece  of  artillery,  do  receive  during 
her  natural  life,  or  continuance  of  said  disability,  one  half  the  ^^.cnthly 
pay  drawn  by  a  soldier  in  the  service  of  these  States ;  and  that  she  now 
receive  out  of  public  store  one  suit  of  clothes,  or  value  thereof  in  money. 

Soon  after  the  commencement  of  the  Revohitionary 
War,  the  family  of  a  Dr.  Channing,  being  in  England, 
removed  to  France,  and  shortly  afterwards  sailed  for 
the  United  States.  The  vessel,  said  to  be  stout  and 
well  armed,  was  attacked  on  the  y  ;  '^'  by  a  priva- 
teer, and  a  fierce  engagement  ensiK  During  its 
continuance,  Mrs.  Channing  stood  on  the  deck,  exhort- 
ing the  crew  not  to  give  up,  encouraging  them  with 
words  of  cheer,  handing  them  cartridges  and  aiding 
such  of  them  as  were  disabled  by  wounds.  When  at 
length  the  colors  of  the  vessel  were  struck,  she  seized 
her  husband's  pistol  and  side  arms  and  flung  them 
into  the  ser^  declaring  that  she  would  prefer  death 
to  the  spectacle  of  their  surrender  into  the  hands  of 
the  foe. 

At  the  siege  of  one  of  the  forts  of  the  Mohawk  Val- 
ley, it  is  related  by  the  author  of  the  "  Border  Wars  of 
the  American  Revolution,"  that  an  interesting  young 
woman,  whose  name  yet  lives  in  story  among  her  own 
mountains,  perceiving,  as  she  thought,  symptoms  of 
fear  in  a  soldier  who  had  been  ordered  to  fetch  water 
from  a  well,  without  the  ranks  and  within  range  of 
the  enemy's  fire,  snatched  the  bucket  from  his  hands 
and  ran  to  the  well  herself  Without  changing  color 
or  giving  the  slightest  evidence  of  fear,  she  drew  and 
brought  back  bucket  after  bucket  to  the  thirsty  sol- 
diers, and  providentially  escaped  without  injury. 

Four  or  five  miles  north  of  the  village  of  Herki- 


I 


■  ■,^jte^;-^Aa 


/I 


V 


f 

1 


ALL  FOR  THEIR  COUNTRY. 


127 


>» 


■Htfi 


mer,  N.  Y.,  stood  the  block-house  of  John  Christian 
Shell,  whose  wife  acted  a  heroic  part  when  attacked 
by  the  Tories,  in  1781.  From  two  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon until  twilight,  the  besieged  kept  up  an  almost 
incessant  firing,  Mrs.  Shell  loading  the  guns  for  her 
husband  and  older  sons  to  discharge.  During  the 
siege,  McDonald,  the  leader  of  the  Tories,  attempted 
to  force  the  door  with  a  crow-bar,  and  was  shot  in  the 
leg,  seized  by  Shiell,  and  drawn  within  doors.  Exas- 
perated by  this  bold  feat,  the  enemy  soon  attempted 
to  carry  the  fortress  by  assault;  five  of  them  leaping 
upon  the  walls  and  thrusting  their  guns  through  the 
loop-holes.  At  that  moment  the  cool  courageous  wo- 
man, Mrs.  Shell,  seized  an  axe,  smote  the  barrels,  bent 
and  spoiled  them.  The  enemy  soon  after  shouldered 
their  guns,  crooked  barrels  and  all,  and  quickly  buried 
themselves  in  the  dense  forest. 

Heroism  in  those  days  was  confined  to  no  section 
of  our  country.  Moll  Pitcher,  at  Monmouth,  battle^ 
stained,  avenged  her  husband  by  the  death-dealing 
cannon  which  she  loaded  and  aimed.  Cornelia  Beek- 
man,  at  Croton,  faced  down  the  armed  Tories  with 
the  fire  of  her  eye  ;  Angelica  Vrooman,  at  Schoharie, 
moulded  bullets  amid  the  war  and  carnage  of  battle, 
while  Mary  Hagidorn  defended  the  fort  with  a  pike ; 
Mrs.  Fitzhugh,  of  Maryland,  accompanied  her  blind 
and  decrepit  husband  when  taken  prisoner  at  mid- 
night and  cf.rried  into  the  enemy's  lines. 

Dicey  Langston,  of  South  Carolina,  also  showed  a 
"soul  of  love  and  bravery."  Living  in  a  frontier  set- 
tlement, and  in  the  midst  of  Tories,  i;nd  being  patrioti- 
cally inqviisitive,  she  often  learned  by  accident,  or 
discovered  by  strategy,  the  plottings  so  common  in 


.1 


128 


PATRIOT  WOMEN  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 


those  days  against  the  Whigs.  Such  intelligence  she 
was  accustomed  to  communicate  to  the  friends  of  free- 
dom on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Ennosee  river. 

Learning  one  time  that  a  band  of  loyalists — known 
in  those  days  as  the  "  Bloody  Scouts  " — were  about  to 
fall  upon  the  "Elder  Settlement,"  a  place  where  a 
brother  of  hers  and  other  friends  were  residing,  she 
resolved  to  warn  them  of  their  danger.  To  do  this 
she  must  hazard  her  own  life.  Regardless  of  danger 
she  started  off  alone,  in  the  darkness  of  the  night; 
traveled  several  miles  through  the  woods,  over  marshes, 
across  creeks,  through  a  country  where  foot-logs  and 
bridges  were  then  unknown ;  came  to  the  Tyger,  a 
rapid  and  deep  stream,  into  which  she  plunged  and 
waded  till  the  water  was  up  to  her  neck.  She  then 
became  bewildered,  and  zigzagged  the  channel  for 
some  time,  finally  reaching  the  opposite  shore,  for  a 
helping  hand  .^as  beneath,  a  kind  Providence  guided 
her.  She  then  hastened  on,  reached  the  settlement, 
and  her  brother  and  the  whole  community  were 
saved. 

Sb'» '  f.s  returning  one  day  from  another  settlement 
of  Whigs,  in  the  Spartanburg  district,  when  a  company 
of  Tories  met  her  and  questioned  her  in  regard  to  the 
neighborhood  she  had  just  left ;  but  she  refused  to 
communicate  the  desired  information.  The  leader  of 
the  band  then  put  a  pistol  to  her  breast,  and  threat- 
ened to  shoot  her  if  she  did  not  make  the  wished-for 
disclosure. 

"Shoot  me  if  you  dare !  I  will  not  tell  you!"  was 
her  dauntless  reply,  as  she  opened  a  long  handkerchief 
that  covered  her  neck  and  bosom,  thus  manifesting  a 


I 


MAIDEN  DARING. 


129 


willingness  to  receive  the  contents  of  the  pistol,  if  the 
officer  insisted  on  disclosure  or  life.  .        • 

The  dastard,  enraged  at  her  defying  movement,  was 
in  the  act  of  firing,  but  one  of  the  soldiers  threw  up 
the  hand  holding  the  weapon,  and  the  uncovered  heart 
of  the  girl  was  permitted  to  beat  on. 

The  brothers  of  Dicey  were  no  less  patriotic  than 
she ;  and  they  having,  1  their  active  services  on  the 
side  of  freedom,  greatly  displeased  the  loyalists,  these 
latter  were  determined  to  be  revenged.  A  desperate 
band  accordingly  went  to  the  house  of  their  father, 
and  finding  the  sons  absent,  were  about  to  wreak 
vengeance  on  the  old  man,  whom  they  hated  for  the 
sons'  sake.  With  this  intent  one  of  the  party  drew  a 
pistol ;  but  just  as  it  was  aimed  at  the  breast  of  the 
aged  and  infirm  old  man.  Dicey  rushed  between  the 
two,  and  though  the  ruffian  bade  her  get  out  of  the 
way  or  receive  in  her  own  breast  the  contents  of  the 
pistol,  she  regarded  not  his  threats,  but  flung  her  arms 
round  her  father's  neck  and  declared  she  would  re- 
ceive the  ball  first,  if  the  weapon  must  be  discharged. 
Such  fearlessness  and  willingness  to  offer  her  own  life 
for  the  sake  of  her  parent,  softened  the  heart  of  the 
"  Bloody  Scout,"  and  Mr.  Langston  lived  to  see  his 
noble  daughter  perform  other  heroic  deeds. 

At  one  time  her  brother  James,  while  absent,  sent  to 
the  house  for  a  gun  which  he  had  left  in  Dicey 's  care, 
with  orders  to  deliver  it  to  no  one,  except  by  his  di- 
rection. On  reaching  the  house  one  of  the  party  who 
were  directed  to  call  for  it,  made  known  their  errand. 
Whereupon  she  brought  and  was  about  to  deliver  the 
weapon.  At  this  moment  it  occurred  to  her  that  she 
had  not  demanded  the  countersign  agreed  on  between 


130 


PATRIOT  WOMEN  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 


herself  and  brother.  With  the  gun  still  in  her  hand, 
she  looked  the  company  sternly  in  the  face,  and  re- 
marking that  they  wore  a  suspicious  look,  called  for 
the  countersign.  Thereupon  one  of  them,  in  jest,  told 
her  she  was  too  tardy  in  her  requirements ;  that  both 
the  gun  and  its  holder  were  in  their  possession.  "  Do 
you  think  so,"  she  boldly  asked,  as  she  cocked  the 
disputed  weapon  and  aimed  it  at  the  speaker.  "  If  the 
gun  is  in  your  possession,"  she  added, "take  charge  of 
it !"  Her  appearance  indicated  that  she  was  in  earn- 
est, and  the  countersign  was  given  without  further 
delay. 

In  these  women  of  the  Revolution  were  blended  at 
once  the  heroine  and  the  "  Ministering  Angel."  To 
defend  their  homes  they  were  men  in  courage  and 
resolution,  and  when  the  battle  was  over  they  showed 
all  a  woman's  tenderness  and  devotion.  Love  was 
the  inspiring  principle  which  nerved  their  arm  in  the 
fight,  and  poured  balm  into  the  Avounds  of  those  who 
had  fallen.  Should  we  have  ever  established  our  In- 
dependence but  for  the  countless  brave,  kind,  and  self- 
sacrificing  acts  of  woman  ? 

After  the  massacre  of  Fort  Griswold,  when  it  was 
found  that  several  of  the  prisoners  were  still  alive,  the 
British  soldiers  piled  their  mangled  bodies  in  an  old 
cart  and  started  it  down  the  steep  and  rugged  hilb 
towards  the  river,  in  order  that  they  might  be  there 
drowned.  Stumps  and  stones  however  obstructed  the 
passage  of  the  cart,  and  wli>in  the  enemy  had  retreated 
— for  the  aroused  inhabitants  of  that  region  soon 
compelled  them  to  that  course — the  friends  of  the 
wounded  came  to  their  aid,  and  thus  several  lives 
were  saved. 


I' 


■■ 


J- 


HEROISM  OF  "MOTHER  BAILEY." 


131 


r  I 


re 


;s 


,.. 


1 


One  of  those  heroic  women  who  came  the  next 
morning  to  the  aid  of  the  thirty-five  wounded  men, 
who  lay  all  night  freezing  in  their  own  blood,  was  Mrs. 
Mary  Ledyard,  a  near  relative  of  the  Colonel.  "  She 
brought  warm  chocolate,  wine,  and  other  refreshments, 
and  while  Dr.  Downer,  of  Preston,  was  dressing  the 
wounds  of  the  soldiers,  she  went  from  one  to  another, 
administering  her  cordials,  and  breathing  gentle  words 
of  sympathy  and  encouragement  into  their  ears.  In 
these  labors  of  kindness  she  was  assisted  by  another 
relative  of  the  lamented  Colonel  Ledyard — Mrs.  John 
.Ledyard — who  had  also  brought  her  househo^''  stores 
to  refresh  the  sufferers,  and  lavished  on  them  the  most 
soothing  personal  attentions.  The  soldiers  who  recov- 
ered from  their  wounds,  were  accustomed,  to  the  day 
of  their  death,  to  speak  of  these  ladies  in  terms  of 
fervent  gratitude  and  praise." 

Another  "heroine  and  ministering  angel"  at  the 
same  massacre  was  Anna  Warner,  wife  of  Captain  Bai- 
ley. She  received  from  the  soldiers  the  affectionate 
sobriquet  of  "  Mother  Bailey."  Had  "  Mother  Bailey  " 
lived  in  the  palmy  days  of  ancient  Roman  glory  no 
matron  in  that  mighty  empire  would  have  been  more 
highly  honored.  Hearing  the  British  guns,  at  the  at- 
tack on  Fort  Griswold,  she  hurried  to  the  scene  of  car- 
nage, where  she  found  her  uncle,  one  of  the  brave 
defenders,  mortally  wounded.  With  his  dying  lips  he 
prayed  to  see  his  wife  and  child — once  more ;  hasten- 
ing home,  she  caught  and  saddled  a  horse  for  the  fee- 
ble mother,  and  ttiking  the  child  in  her  arms  ran  three 
miles  and  held  it  to  recei^'^e  the  kisses  and  blessing  of 
its  dying  father.  At  a  later  period  flannel  being 
needed  to  use  for  cartridges,  she  gave  her  own  under^ 


!: 


132 


PATRIOT  WOMEN  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 


garment  for  that  purpose.  This  patriotic  siirrendej 
showed  the  noble  spirit  which  always  actuated  "  Mother 
Bailey"  and  was  an  appropriation  to  her  country  of 
which  she  might  justly  be  proud. 

The  combination  of  manly  daring  and  womanly 
kindness  was  admirably  displayed  in  the  deeds  of  a 
maiden,  Miss  Esther  Gaston,  and  of  a  married  lady, 
Mrs.  Slocum,  whose  presence  upon  battlefields  gave 
aid  and  comfort,  in  several  ways,  to  the  patriot  cause. 

On  the  morning  of  July  30th,  1780,  the  former, 
hearing  the  firing,  rode  to  the  scene  of  conflict  in 
company  with  her  sister-in-law.  Meeting  three  skulk- 
ers retreating  from  the  fight,  Esther  rebuked  them 
sharply,  and,  seizing  the  gun  from  the  hands  of  one 
of  them,  exclaimed,  "  Give  us  your  guns,  and  we  will 
stand  in  your  places !  "  The  cowards,  abashed  and 
filled  with  shame,  thereupon  turned  about,  and,  in 
company  with  the  females,  hurried  back  to  face  the 
enemv. 

While  the  battle  was  raging,  Esther  and  her  com- 
panion busied  themselves  in  dressing  and  binding  up 
the  wounds  of  the  fallen,  and  in  quenching  their 
thirst,  not  even  forgetting  their  helpless  enemies, 
whose  bodies  strewed  the  ground. 

During  another  battle,  which  occurred  the  follow- 
ing week,  she  converted  a  church  into  a  hospital,  and 
administered  to  the  wants  of  the  wounded. 

Our  other  heroine,  Mrs.  Slocum,  of  Pleasant  Green, 
North  Carolina,  having  a  presentiment  that  her  hus- 
band was  dead  or  wounded  in  battle,  rose  in  the  night, 
saddled  her  horse,  and  rode  to  the  scene  of  conflict. 
We  continue  the  narrative  in  the  words  of  our  heroine. 

"  The  cool  night  seemed  after  a  gallop  of  a  mile  or 


,- » ■, 


WOMEN  ON  THE  BATTLE-FIELD. 


133 


JL 


two,  to  bring  reflection  with  it,  and  I  asked  myself 
where  I  was  going,  and  for  what  purpose.  Again  and 
again  I  was  tempted  to  turn  back ;  but  I  was  soon  ten 
miles  from  home,  and  my  mind  became  stronger  every 
mile  I  rode  that  I  should  find  my  husband  dead  or  dying 
— this  was  as  firmly  my  presentiment  and  conviction  as 
any  fact  of  my  life.  When  day  broke  I  was  some  thirty 
miles  from  home.  I  knew  the  general  route  our  anny 
expected  to  take,  and  had  followed  them  without  hesi- 
tation. About  sunrise  I  came  upon  a  group  of  women 
and  children,  standinjr  and  sitting  by  the  road-side, 
each  one  of  them  showing  the  same  anxiety  of  mind 
which  I  felt. 

"  Stopping  a  few  minutes  I  enquired  if  the  battle  had 
been  fought.  They  knew  nothing,  but  were  assem- 
bled on  the  road-side  to  catch  intelligence.  They 
thought  Caswell  had  taken  the  right  of  the  Wilming- 
ton road,  find  gone  toward  the  northwest  (Cape  Fear). 
.Vgain  was  I  skimming  over  the  ground  through  a 
jountry  thinly  settled,  and  very  poor  and  swampy; 
but  neither  my  own  spirit  nor  my  beautiful  nag's  failed 
in  the  least.  We  followed  the  well-marked  trail  of  the 
troops. 

"  The  sun  must  have  been  well  up,  say  eight  or  nine 
o'clock,  when  I  heard  a  sound  like  thunder,  which  I 
knew  must  be  a  cannon.  It  was  the  first  time  I  ever 
heard  a  cannon.  I  stopped  still ;  when  presently  the 
cannon  thundered  again.  The  battle  was  then  fight- 
ing. What  a  fool !  my  husband  could  not  be  dead  last 
night,  and  the  battle  only  fighting  now !  Still,  as  I 
am  so  near,  I  will  go  on  and  see  how  they  come  out. 
So  away  we  went  again,  faster  than  ever ;  and  I  soon 
found,  by  the  noise  of  the  guns,  that  I  was  near  the 


134 


PATItlOT  IVOMl^N  OF  THE  liEVOLUTIOy. 


.>«3:''" 


fight.  Again  I  stopped.  I  could  Iicar  muskets,  riflos, 
and  shouting.  1  spoko  to  my  horse  and  dashed  on  in 
the  direction  of  the  firing  and  the  shouts,  which  were 
louder  than  ever. 

"The  l)linu  path  I  had  been  following,  brought  me 
into  the  Wilmington  road  leading  to  Moore's  creek 
bridge,  a  few  hundred  yards  below  the  bridge.  A  few 
yards  from  the  road,  under  a  cluster  of  trees,  were  ly- 
ing perhaps  twenty  men.  They  were  wounded.  I 
knew  the  spot ;  the  very  tree ;  and  the  position  of  the 
men  I  knew  as  if  I  had  seen  it  a  thousand  times.  I 
had  seen  it  all  night !  I  saw  all  at  once ;  but  in  an 
instant  my  whole  soul  centered  in  one  spot;  for  there 
wrapped  in  a  bloody  guard  cloak,  was  my  husband's 
body !  How  I  passed  the  few  yards  from  my  saddle 
to  the  place  I  never  knew.  I  remember  imcovering  his 
head  and  seeing  a  face  crusted  with  gore  from  a  dread- 
ful wound  across  the  temple.  I  put  my  hand  on  the 
bloody  face ;  'twas  warm ;  and  an  unknown  voice 
begged  for  water ;  a  small  camp-kettle  was  lying  near, 
and  a  stream  of  water  was  close  by.  I  brought  it ; 
poured  i-ome  in  his  mouth,  washed  his  face ;  and  be- 
hold— it  was  not  my  husband  but  Frank  Cogdcll.  lie 
soon  revived  and  could  speak.  I  was  washing  the 
wound  in  his  head.  Said  he,  *It  is  not  that;  it  is  the 
hole  in  my  leg  that  is  killing  me.'  A  puddle  of  blood 
was  standing  on  the  ground  about  his  feet.  I  took 
the  knife,  nnd  cut  away  his  trousers  and  stockings,  and 
found  the  blood  came  from  a  shot  hole  through  and 
through  the  fleshy  part  of  his  leg.  I  looked  about 
and  could  see  nothing  that  looked  as  if  it  would  do 
for  dressing  wounds,  but  some  heart-leaves.  I  gath- 
ered a  handful  and  bound  them  tight  to  the  holes ;  and 


i 


IS  t 


i- 


.! 


i 


3IRS.  SLOCUM'S  ADVENTURE. 


135 


the  bleeding  stopped.  I  then  went  to  others ;  I  dressed 
the  wounds  of  many  a  brave  fellow  who  did  good  ser- 
vice long  after  that  day  !  I  had  not  enquired  for  my 
husband;  but  while  I  was  busy  Caswell  came  up. 
He  appeared  very  much  surprised  to  see  me ;  and  was 
with  his  hat  in  hand  about  to  pay  some  compliment ; 
but  I  interrupted  him  by  asking — '  Where  is  my  hus- 
band ?' 

"'Where  he  ought  to  be,  madam;  in  pursuit  of  the 
enemy.     But  pray,'  said  he, '  how  came  you  here  ?' 

" '  0, 1  thought,'  replied  I, '  you  would  need  nurses  as 
well  as  soldiers.  See !  I  have  already  dressed  many 
of  these  good  fellows ;  and  here  is  one — and  going  up 
to  Frank  and  lifting  him  up  with  my  arm  under  his 
he'  so  that  he  could  drink  some  more  water — '  would 
h;  ied  before  any  of  you  men  could  have  helped 
him.' 

"  Just  then  I  looked  up,  and  my  husband,  as  bloody 
as  a  butcher,  and  as  muddy  as  a  ditcher,  stood  before 
me. 

'Why,  Mary!'  he  exclaimed,  'what  are  you  doing 
there  ?  Hugging  Frank  Cogdell,  the  greatest  repro- 
bate in  the  army  ?' 

'  I  don't  care,'  I  said.  '  Frank  is  a  brave  fellow,  a 
good  soldier,  and  a  true  friend  of  Congress.' 

'  True,  true  !  every  word  of  it !'  said  Caswell.  '  You 
are  right,  madam,'  with  the  lowest  possible  bow. 

"I  would  not  tell  my  husbandj^^what  brought  me 
there.  I  was  so  happy  ;  and  so  were  all !  It  was  a 
glorious  victory;  I  came  just  at  the  hycight  of  the  en- 
joyment. I  knew  my  husband  was  surprised,  but  I 
could  see  he  was  not  displeased  with  me.  It  was 
night  again  before  our  excitement  had  at  all  subsided. 


%::. 


rf'-H^^  — 


i^^lill 


'""•'"^^^mmmmmmm 


\ 


PATRIOT  WOMEN  OF  THE  REVOLUTION, 

Many  prisoners  were  brought  in,  and  among  them 
some  very  obnoxious ;  but  the  worst  of  the  Tories  were 
not  taken  prisoners.  They  were,  for  the  most  part, 
left  in  the  woods  and  sw  mps  wherever  they  were 
overtaken.  I  begged  for  some  of  the  poor  prisoners, 
and  Caswell  told  me  none  should  be  hurt  but  sach  as 
had  been  guilty  of  murder  and  house-burning. 

"  In  the  middle  of  the  night  I  again  mounted  my 
horse  and  started  for  home.  Caswell  and  my  hus- 
band wanted  me  to  stay  till  next  morning,  and  they 
would  sen  d  a  party  with  me ;  but  no !  I  wanted  to 
see  my  child,  and  I  told  them  they  could  send  no 
party  who  could  keep  up  with  me.  What  a  happy 
ride  I  had  back !  and  with  what  joy  did  I  embrace 
my  child  as  he  ran  to  meet  me  !  " 

The  winter  at  Valley  Forge  was  the  darkest  season 
in  the  Revolutionary  struggle.  The  .A.merican  army 
were  sheltered  by  miserable  huts,  through  which  the 
rain  ond  sleet  found  their  way  upon  the  wretched 
cots  where  the  natriots  slept.  By  day  the  half-fam- 
ished soldiers  in  tattered  regimentals  wandered  through 
their  camp,  and  the  snow  showed  the  bloody  tracks  of 
their  shoeless  feet.  Mutinous  mu'terings  distuued 
the  sleej)  of  Washington,  and  one  dark,  cold  day,  the 
soldiers  at  dusk  were  on  the  point  of  open  revolt. 
Nature  could  endure  no  more,  and  noC  from  want  of 
jiatriotism,  but  from  want  of  food  and  clothes,  the  pa- 
triotic cause  seemed  likely  to  fail.  Pinched  with  cold 
and  wasted  with  hunger,  the  soldiers  j^^'ned  ])eside 
their  dying  camp-fires.  Suddenly  a  shout  was  heard 
from  the  sentinels  who  paced  ^\q  outer  lines,  and  at 
the  same  time,  a  cavalcade  ca  ne  slowly  tln-ough  the 
avow  up  the  valley.     Ten  women  in  carts,  each  cart 


'^ 


\. 


/■■' 


f    t 


-m 


:f^ 


,  >. 


:,"  '—1 ■"''"■--"•«Tr--"T'rt  tuMJiiirmiwwf.' 


•«ai&ti«igsagwa«ii,,^^ 


a 


*i 


*f; 


; 


n 


n  I 


? 


FEMININE  STRATEGY. 


137 


drawn  by  ten  pairs  of  oxen,  and  bearing  tons  of  meal 
and  other  supplies,  p"".sed  through  the  lines  amid 
cheers  that  rent  the  air.  Those  devoted  women  had 
preserved  the  army,  and  Independence  from  that  day 
was  assured. 

Fortitude  and  patience  were  exemplified  in  a  thou- 
sand homes  from  which  members  of  the  family  had 
gone  to  battle  for  Independence.  Straitened  for 
means  wherewith  to  keep  their  strong  souls  in  their 
feeble  bodies,  worn  with  toil,  tortured  with  anxiety 
for  the  safety  of  the  soldier-father  oi'  son,  or  husband 
or  brother,  and  fighting  the  conflict  of  life  alone,  wo- 
man proved  in  that  great  ordeal  her  claim  to  those 
virtues  which  are  by  common  consent  assigned  to  her 
as  her  peculiar  characteristics. 

We  may  well  suppose,  too,  that  ready  wit  and  address 
had  ample  scope  for  their  exercise  in  those  perilous 
times.  And  who  but  woman  could  best  display  those 
qual' ties  ? 

While  Ann  Elliott,  styled  by  her  British  admirers, 
•'the  beautiful  rebel,"  was  affianced  to  Col.  Lewis 
Morris,  of  New  York,  the  house  where  he  was  visiting 
her  was  suddenly  surrounded  by  a  detachment  of 
"Black  Dragoons."  They  were  in  pursuit  of  the 
Colonel,  and  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  escape  by 
flight.  What  to  do  he  knew  not,  but,  quick  as  thought, 
she  ran  to  the  window,  opened  it,  and,  fearlessly  put- 
ting her  head  out,  in  a  composed  manner  demanded 
what  was  wanted.  The  reply  was,  "  We  want  the 
rebel."  "Then  go,"  said  she,  "and  look  for  him  in 
the  American  army ;"  adding,  "  how  dare  you  disturb 
a  family  under  the  protection  of  both  armies  ?"  She 
was  so  cool,  self-possessed,  firm,  and  resolute,  as  to  tri- 


f 


.i.J^  *v«I«*i8«»»ir,»MV4i)>i! 


138 


PATRIOT  WOMEN  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 


umph  over  the  dragoons,  who  left  without  entering 
the  house. 

While  the  conflict  was  at  its  height  in  South  Car- 
olina, Captain  Richardson,  of  Sumter  district,  was 
obliged  to  conceal  himself  for  a  while  in  the  thickets 
of  the  Santee  swamp.  One  day  he  ventured  to  visit 
his  family — a  perilous  movement,  for  the  British  had 
offered  a  reward  for  his  apprehension,  and  patrolling 
parties  were  almost  constantly  in  search  of  him.  Be- 
fore his  visit  was  ended  a  small  party  of  soldiers  pre- 
sented themselves  in  front  of  the  house.  Just  as  they 
were  entering,  with  a  great  deal  of  composure  and 
presence  of  mind,  Mrs.  Richardson  appeared  at  the 
door,  and  found  so  much  to  do  there  at  the  moment, 
as  to  make  it  inconvenient  to  leave  room  for  the  un- 
invited guests  to  enter.  She  was  so  calm,  and  appeared 
so  unconcerned,  that  they  did  not  mistrust  the  cause 
of  her  wonderful  diligence,  till  her  husband  htv;  rushed 
out  of  the  back  door,  and  safely  reached  the  lioigh- 
boring  swamp. 

The  bearing  of  important  dispatches  through  an 
enemy's  country  is  an  enterprise  that  always  requires 
both  courage  and  address.  Such  a  feat  was  performed 
by  Miss  Geiger,  under  circumstances  of  peculiar  diffi- 
culty. 

At  the  time  General  Greene  retreated  before  Lord 
Rawdon  from  Ninety-Six,  when  he  passed  Broad  river, 
he  was  desirous  to  send  an  order  to  General  Sumter,  who 
was  on  the  Wateree,  to  join  him,  that  they  might  at- 
tack Rawdon,  who  had  divided  his  force.  But  the 
General  could  find  no  man  in  that  part  of  the  state 
who  was  bold  enough  to  undertake  so  dangerous  mis- 
sion.    The  country  to  be  passed  through  for  many 


:'.  I 


« 


! 


,. 


^ 


THE  FEMALE  COuRIER. 


139 


miles  was  full  of  blood-thirsty  Tories,  who,  on  every 
occasion  that  offered,  imbrued  their  hands  in  the  blood 
of  the  Whigs.  At  length  Emily  Geiger  presented  her- 
self to  General  Greene,  and  proposed  to  act  as  his 
messenger:  and  the  general,  both  surprised  and  de- 
lighted, closed  with  her  proposal.  He  accordingly 
wrote  a  letter  and  delivered  it,  and  at  the  same  time 
communicated  the  contents  of  it  verbally,  to  be  told 
to  Sumter  in  case  of  accidents. 

She  pursued  her  journey  on  horseback,  and  on  the 
second  day  was  intercepted  by  Lord  Rawdon's  scouts. 
Coming  from  the  direction  of  Greene's  army  and  not 
being  able  to  tell  an  untruth  without  blushing,  Emily 
was  suepected  and  confined  to  a  room ;  and  the  officer 
sent  for  an  old  Tory  matron  to  search  for  papers  upon 
her  pprson.  Emily  was  not  wanting  in  expedients, 
and  as  soon  as  the  door  was  closed  and  the  bustle  a  lit- 
tle subsided,  she  ate  up  the  letter^  piece  by  piece.  After 
a  while  the  matron  arrived,  and  upon  searching  care- 
fully, nothing  was  found  of  a  suspicious  nature  about 
the  prisoner,  and  she  would  disclose  nothing.  Suspi- 
cion being  then  allayed,  the  officer  commanding  the 
scouts  suffered  Emily  to  depart.  She  then  took  a 
loute  somewhat  circuitous  to  avoid  further  detentions 
and  soon  after  struck  into  the  roaa  leading  to  Sumter's 
camp,  where  she  arrived  in  safety.  Emily  told  her 
adventure,  and  delivered  Greene's  verbal  message  to 
Sumter,  who  in  consequence,  soon  after  joined  the 
main  army  at  Orangeburgh. 

The  salvation  of  the  army  was  due  more  than  once 
to  the  watchfulness  and  tact  of  woman. 

When  the  British  army  held  possession  of  Philadel- 
phia, a  superior  officer  supposed  to  have  been  the  Ad- 


■ 


140 


PATRIOT  WOMEN  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 


jutant  General,  selected  a  back  chamber  in  the  house 
of  Mrs.  Lydia  Darrah,  for  private  conference.  Sus- 
pecting that  some  important  movement  was  on  foot,  she 
took  off  her  shoes,  and  putting  her  ear  to  the  key-hole 
of  the  door,  overheard  an  order  read  for  all  the  British 
troops  to  march  out,  late  in  the  evening  of  the  fourth, 
and  attack  General  Washington's  army,  then  encamped 
at  White  Marsh.  On  hearin-^  this,  she  returned  to 
her  chamber  and  laid  herself  down.  Soon  after,  the 
officers  knocked  at  her  door,  but  she  rose  only  at  the 
third  summons,  having  feigned  to  be  asleep.  Her 
mind  was  so  much  agitated  that,  from  this  moment,  she 
could  neither  eat  nor  sleep,  supposing  it  to  be  in  her 
power  to  save  the  lives  of  thousands  of  her  country- 
men, but  not  knowing  how  she  was  to  carry  the  nec- 
essary information  to  General  Washington,  nor  daring 
to  confide  it  even  to  her  husband.  The  time  left  was 
short,  and  she  quickly  determined  to  make  her  way 
as  soon  as  possible,  to  the  American  outposts.  She 
informed  her  family,  that,  as  they  were  in  want  of 
flour,  she  would  go  to  Frankfort  for  some;  her  hus- 
band insisted  that  she  should  take  with  her  the  servant 
maid;  but,  to  his  surprise,  she  positively  refused. 
Gaining  access  to  General  Howe,  she  solicited  what 
he  readily  granted — a  pass  through  the  British  troops 
on  the  lines.  Leaving  her  bag  at  the  mill,  she  hastened 
towards  the  American  lines,  and  encountered  on  her 
way  an  American,  Lieutenant  Colonel  Craig,  of  the 
light  horse,  who,  with  some  of  his  men,  was  on  the 
lookout  for  information.  He  knew  her,  and  inquired 
whither  she  was  going.  She  answered,  in  quest  of  her 
son,  an  officer  in  the  American  army ;  and  prayed  the 
Colonel  to  alight  and  walk  with  her.     He  did  so,  or- 


X 


SAVING  THE  ARMY. 


141 


^ 


d&ring  his  troops  to  keep  in  sight.  To  him  she  dis- 
closed her  momentous  secret,  after  having  obtained 
from  him  the  most  solemn  promise  never  to  betray  her 
individually,  since  her  life  might  be  at  stake.  He  con- 
ducted her  to  a  bouse  near  at  hand,  directed  a  female 
in  it  to  give  her  something  to  eat,  and  hastened  to 
head- quarters,  where  he  made  General  Washington 
acquainted  with  what  he  had  heard.  Washington 
made,  of  course,  all  preparation  for  baffling  the  medi- 
tated surprise,  and  the  contemplated  expedition  was  a 
failure. 

Mrs.  Murray  of  New  York,  the  mother  of  Lindley 
Murray,  the  grammarian,  by  her  ceremonious  hospi- 
tality detained  Lord  Howe  and  his  officers,  while  the 
British  forces  were  in  pursuit  of  General  Putnam,  and 
thus  prevented  the  capture  of  the  American  army. 
In  fine,  not  merely  the  lives  of  many  individuals,  but 
the  safety  of  the  whole  patriot  army,  and  even  the 
cause  of  independence  was  more  than  once  due  to 
feminine  address  and  strategy. 

Patriotic  generosity  and  devotion  were  displayed 
without  stint,  and  women  were  ready  to  submit  to  any 
sacrifice  in  behalf  of  their  country. 

These  qualities  are  well  illustrated  by  the  three 
following  instances. 

Mrs.  William  Smith,  when  informed  that  in  order  to 
dislodge  the  enemy  then  in  possession  of  Fort  St. 
George,  Long  Island,  it  would  be  necessnry  to  burn  or 
batter  down  her  dwelling-house,  promptly  told  Major 
Tallmadge  to  proceed  without  hesitation  in  the  work 
of  destruction,  if  the  good  of  the  country  demanded 
the  sacrifice. 

While  General  Greene  was  retreating,  disheartened 


142 


PATRIOT  WOMEN  OF  TUE  REVOLUTION. 


and  penniless,  from  the  enemy,  after  the  disastrous 
defeat  at  Camden,  he  was  met  at  Catawba  ford  by  Mrs. 
EHzabeth  Steele,  who,  in  her  generous  ardor  in  the 
cause  of  freedom,  drew  him  aside,  and,  taking  two 
bags  of  specie  from  imder  her  apron,  presented  them 
to  him,  saying,  "  Take  these,  for  you  will  want  them, 
and  I  can  do  without  them." 

While  Fort  Motte,  on  the  Congaree  River,  was  in 
the  hands  of  the  British,  in  order  to  effect  its  sur- 
render, it  became  necessary  to  burn  a  large  mansion 
standing  near  the  center  of  the  trench.  The  house 
was  the  property  of  Mrs.  Motte.  Lieut.  Colonel  Lee 
communicated  to  her  the  contemplated  work  ot 
destruction  with  painful  reluctance,  but  her  smiles, 
half  anticipating  his  proposal,  showed  at  once  that  she 
was  willing  to  sacrifice  her  property  if  she  could 
thereby  aid  in  the  least  degree  towards  the  expulsion 
of  the  enemy  and  the  salvation  of  the  land. 

Pennsylvania  had  the  honor  of  being  the  native 
State  of  Mrs.  McCalla,  whose  affectionate  and  devoted 
efforts  to  liberate  her  invalid  husband,  languishing  in 
a  British  dungeon,  have  justly  given  her  a  high  rank 
among  the  patriot  women  of  the  Revolution. 

Weeks  elapsed  after  the  capture  of  Mr.  McCalla, 
before  she  was  able,  with  the  most  assiduous  inquiries, 
to  ascertain  the  place  of  his  confinement.  Li  the  midst 
of  her  torturing  anxiety  and  suspense  her  children  fell 
sick  of  small-pox.  She  nursed  them  alone  and  unaided, 
and  as  soon  as  they  were  out  of  danger,  resumed  her 
search  for  her  husband. 

Mounting  her  horse,  she  succeeded  in  forcing  he) 
way  to  the  head-quarters  of  Lord  Rawdon,  at  Camden, 
and  obtained  reluctant  permission  to  visit  her  husband 


T 
1 


■ 


i 


PATRIOT  WIVES. 


143 


'iN' 


for  ten  minutes  only  in  his  wretched  prison-pen. 
Though  almost  overcome  by  the  interview,  she  hast- 
ened home,  having  altogether  ridden  through  the 
wilderness  one  hundred  miles  in  twenty-four  hours. 

She  proceeded  immediately  to  prepare  clothing  and 
provisions  for  her  husband  and  the  other  prisoners. 
Her  preparations  having  been  completed,  she  set  out 
on  her  return  to  Camden,  in  company  with  one  of  her 
neighbors,  Mrs.  Mary  Nixon.  Each  of  the  brave 
women  drove  before  her  a  p.ack-horse,  laden  with 
clothes  and  provisions  for  the  prisoners.  These  errands 
of  mercy  were  repeated  every  month,  often  in  com- 
pany with  other  women  who  were  engaged  in  similar 
missions,  and  sometimes  alone. 

MeauAvhilo  she  did  not  relax  her  efforts  to  effect  the 
release  of  her  husband.  After  many  months  she  suc- 
ceeded in  procuring  an  order  for  the  discharge  of  her 
husband  with  ten  other  prisoners,  whose  handcuffs 
and  ankle  chahis  were  knocked  off,  and  who  left  the 
prison  in  company  with  their  heroic  liberator. 

Examples  are  not  wanting,  in  our  Revolutionary 
annals,  of  a  stern  and  lofty  spirit  of  self-sacrifice  in 
behalf  of  country,  that  will  vie  with  that  displayed 
by  the  first  Brutus. 

We  are  told  by  the  orator  of  the  Society  of  the 
Cincinnati  that  when  the  British  officers  presented  to 
Mrs.  Rebecca  Edwards  the  mandate  which  arrested 
her  sons  as  "objects  of  retaliation,  less  sensitive  of 
private  affection  than  attached  to  her  honor  and  the 
interest  of  her  country,  she  stifled  the  tender  feelings 
of  the  mother  and  heroically  bade  them  despise  the 
threats  of  their  enemies,  and  steadfastly  persist  to  sup- 
port the  glorious  cause  in  which  they  had  engaged — 


144 


PATRIOT  won  EN  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 


that  if  the  threatened  sacrifice  should  follow  they 
would  carry  a  parent's  blessing,  and  the  good  opinion 
of  every  virtuous  citizen  with  them,  to  the  grave  ; 
but  if  from  the  frailty  of  human  nature  —  of  the 
possibility  of  which  she  would  not  suffer  an  idea  to 
enter  her  mind — they  were  disposed  to  temporize  and 
exchange  this  liberty  for  safety,  they  must  forget 
her  as  a  mother,  nor  subject  her  to  the  misery  of  ever 
beholding  them  again." 

As  among  the  early  Puritan  settlers,  so  among  tHe 
women  of  the  Revolution,  nothing  was  more  remark- 
able than  their  belief  in  the  efficacy  of  prayer. 

In  the  solitude  of  their  homes,  in  the  cool  and  silenc* 
of  the  forest,  and  in  the  presence  of  the  foe.  Christian 
women  knelt  down  and  prayed  for  peace,  for  victory, 
for  rescue  from  danger,  and  for  deliverance  from  i\w 
enemies  which  beset  them.  Can  we  doubt  that  the 
prayers  of  these  noble  patriot  women  were  answered  2 

Early  in  the  Revolutionary  "War,  the  historian  of  tho 
border  relates  that  "  the  inhabitants  of  the  frontier  of 
Burke  County,  North  Carolina,  being  apprehensive  of 
an  attack  by  the  Indians,  it  was  determined  to  seek 
protection  in  a  fort  in  a  more  densely  populated  neigh- 
borhood, in  an  interior  settlement.  A  party  of  soldiers 
was  sent  to  protect  them  on  their  retreat.  The  fami- 
lies assembled ;  the  line  of  march  was  taken  towards 
their  place  of  destination,  and  they  proceeded  some 
miles  unmolested — the  soldiers  forming  a  hollow  square 
with  the  refugee  families  in  the  center.  The  Indians 
had  watched  these  movements,  and  had  laid  a  plan  for 
the  destruction  of  the  migrating  party.  The  road  to 
be  traveled  lay  through  a  dense  forest  in  the  fork  of 


A  FRIEND  IN  NEED. 


145 


a  river,  where  the  Indians  concealed  themselves  and 
waited  till  the  travelers  were  in  the  desired  spot. 

Suddenly  the  war-whoop  sounded  in  front  and  on 
either  side ;  a  large  body  of  painted  warriors  rushed 
in,  filling  the  gap  by  which  the  whites  had  entered, 
and  an  appalling  crash  of  fire-arms  followed.  The 
soldiers,  however,  were  prepared.  Such  as  chanced  to 
be  near  the  trees  darted  behind  them,  and  began  to 
ply  the  deadly  rifle ;  the  others  prostrated  themselves 
upon  the  earth,  among  the  tall  grass,  and  crawled  to 
trees.  The  fjimilies  screened  themselves  as  best  they 
could.  The  onset  was  long  and  fiercely  urged  ;  ever 
and  anon,  amid  the  din  and  smoke,  the  braves  would 
rush  out,  tomah.iwk  in  hand,  towards  the  center ;  but 
they  were  repulsed  by  the  cool  intrepidity  of  the 
backwoods  riflemen.  Still  they  fought  on,  determined 
on  the  destruction  of  the  destined  victims  who  offered 
such  desperate  resistance.  All  at  once  an  appalling 
sound  greeted  the  ears  of  the  women  and  children  in 
the  center ;  it  was  a  cry  from  their  defenders — a  cry 
for  powder !  "  Our  powder  is  giving  out !  "  they  ex- 
claimed. "Have  you  any?  Bring  us  some,  or  we 
can  fight  no  longer. ' 

A  woman  of  the  party  had  a  good  supply.  She 
spread  her  apron  on  the  ground,  poured  her  powder 
into  it,  and  going  round  from  soldier  to  soldier,  as  they 
stood  behind  the  trees,  bade  each  who  needed  powder 
put  down  his  hat,  and  poured  a  quantity  upon  it. 
Thus  she  went  round  the  line  of  defense  till  her  whole 
stock,  and  all  she  could  obtain  from  others,  was  dis- 
tributed. At  last  the  savages  gave  way,  and,  pressed 
by  their  foes,  were  driven  off  the  ground.  The  vic- 
tori',!US  whites  returned  to  those  for  whose  safety  they 
10 


146 


PATRIOT  WOMEN  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 


■  ' 

I 


had  ventured  into  the  wilderness.  Inquiries  were 
made  as  to  who  had  been  killed,  and  one,  running  up, 
cried,  "  Where  is  the  woman  that  gave  us  the  powder  ? 
I  want  to  see  her!"  "Yes!  yes! — let  us  see  her!" 
responded  another  and  another;  "without  her  we 
should  have  been  all  lost !  "  The  soldiers  ran  about 
among  the  women  and  children,  looking  for  her  and 
making  inquiries.  Others  came  in  from  the  pursuit, 
one  of  whom,  observing  the  commotion,  asked   the 


cause,  and  was  told. 


"  You  are  looking  in  the  wrong  place,"  he  replied, 

"  Is  she  killed  ?  Ah,  we  were  afraid  of  that !  *" 
exclaimed  many  voices. 

"Not  when  I  saw  her,"  answered  the  soldier. 
**  When  the  Indians  ran  oi¥,  she  -.vn«  '^n  lier  Jmees  in 
prayer  at  the  root  of  yonder  tree,  and  there  I  left 
her." 

There  was  a  simultaneous  rush  to  the  tree — and 
there,  to  their  great  joy,  they  found  the  woman  safe 
and  still  on  her  knees  in  prayer.  Thinking  not  of 
herself,  she  received  their  applause  without  manifest- 
ing any  other  feeling  than  gratitude  to  Heaven  for 
their  great  deliverance. 

An  eminent  divine  whose  childhood  was  passed  upon 
our  New  England  frontier,  during  the  period  of  the 
Revolution,  narrated  to  the  writer  many  years  since,  the 
story  of  his  mother's  life  while  her  husband  was  absent 
in  the  patriot  army.  Their  small  farm  was  on  the  sterile 
hill-side,  and  with  the  utmost  pains,  barely  yielded  suf- 
ficient for  the  wants  of  the  lone  wife  and  her  three 
little  ones.  There  was  no  house  within  five  miles,  and 
the  whole  region  around  was  stripped  of  its  male  in- 
habitants, such  was  the  patriotic  ardor  of  the  people. 


,..ft«*^-. 


/         • 


A  PIOUS  ilOTUER'S  MEMORY. 


147 


I 


^.' 


All  the  labors  in  providing  for  the  household  fell  upon 
the  mother.  She  planted  and  hoed  the  corn,  milked 
the  cow  and  tended  the  farm,  at  the  same  time  not 
neglecting  the  inside  duties  of  the  household;  feeding 
and  clothing  the  children,  nursing  them  when  sick  and 
instructing  them  in  the  rudiments  of  education. 

"  I  call  to  mind,  though  after  the  lapse  of  eighty 
years,"  said  the  venerable  man,  "  the  image  of  my 
mother  as  distinctly  as  of  yesterday,  and  she  moves 
before  me  as  she  did  in  my  childhood's  home  among 
fhose  bleak  hills — cheerful  and  serene  through  all, 
though  even  with  my  young  eyes  I  could  see  that  a 
brooding  sorrow  rested  upon  her  spirit.  I  remember 
the  day  when  my  father  kissed  my  brothers  and  me, 
and  told  us  to  be  good  boys,  and  help  mother  while  he 
was  gor  ' :  I  remember  too,  that  look  upon  my  moth- 
er's lu"c  .  s  she  watched  him  go  down  the  road  with 
his  musket  and  knapsack. 

.  "  When  evening  came,  that  day,  and  she  had  placed 
us  in  our  little  beds,  I  saw  her  kneeling  and  praying 
in  a  low  tone,  long  and  fervently,  and  heard  her  after 
she  had  pleaded  that  victory  might  crown  our  arms, 
intercede  at  the  throne  of  grace  for  her  absent  hus- 
band and  the  father  of  her  children. 

"  Then  she  rose  and  kissed  us  good-night,  and  as  she 
bent  above  us  I  shall  never  forget  till  my  latest  hour 
the  angelic  expression  upon  her  face.  Sorrow,  love, 
resignation,  and  holy  trust  were  blended  and  beamed 
forth  in  that  look  which  seemed  to  transfigure  her 
countenance  and  her  whole  bearing. 

"  During  all  those  trying  years  while  she  was  so  pa- 
tiently toiling  to  feed  and  clothe  us,  and  bearing  the 
burdens  and  privations  of  her  lonely  lot,  never  did  she 


SHSOTPW 


148 


PATRIOT  WOMEN  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 


w 


omit  the  morning  and  evening  prayer  for  her  country 
and  for  the  fathei  of  her  children. 

"  One  day  we  saw  her  holding  an  open  letter  in  her 
hf,nd  and  looking  pale  and  as  if  she  were  about  to 
flint.  We  gathered  about  her  knees  and  gazed  with 
wondering  eyes,  silently  into  her  sad  and  care-worn 
face,  for  even  then  we  had  been  schooled  to  recognize 
and  respect  the  sorrows  of  a  mother.  Two  weeks  be- 
fore that  time,  a  battle  had  been  fought  in  which  father 
had  been  severely  wounded.  The  slow  mail  of  those 
days  Lad  oii'V  just  brought  this  sad  intelligence.  1  s 
we  ^tood  beside  her  she  bent  and  clasped  us  to  lie" 
heart,  striving  to  hide  the  great  tears  that  coursed  down 
her  wasted  cheeks. 

"  We  begged  her  not  to  cry  and  tried  to  com:brt  he** 
with  our  infantile  caresses.  At  length  we  saw  her  clos*^ 
her  eyes  and  utter  a  Ioav  priiyer.  Ere  her  lips  h.T^ 
ceased  to  intercede  with  the  Father  of  mercies,  a 
knock  was  heard  at  the  door  and  one  of  the  neighbor'- 
ing  settlers  entered.  He  had  just  returned  from  th« 
army  and  had  come  .^cvei'al  miles  on  foot  from  his 
home,  expresj^lv  to  tell  us  that  fi!ther  .'/as  rapidly  re- 
covering from  h'o  wounds.  It  seemed  as  if  he  were  a 
iiiessenger  sent  from  heaven  in  direct  answer  to  the 
dlent  prayers  cf  a  niuther,  and  all  was  joy  and  bright- 
ness in  the  house." 

The  patriot  father  returned  to  his  fjimily  at  the  close 
of  the  war  with  the  rank  of  Captain,  which  ho  Iiad 
nobly  v/on  by  his  bravery  in  the  battle's  vnn.  Tlu 
sons  grew  up  and  became  useful  and  hono'  od  ci' izena 
of  a  Eepublic  wlach  thoir  father  had  helped  to  make 
free;  and  ever  during  their  lives  they  fondly  cher- 
iiihed  tlie  memory  of   the  mother  vrlio  had  taught 


I 


\ 


f^y 


AN  IMPERISHABLE  RECORD. 


7 


149 


T 

0 

h 

■ 

a 

e 

)~ 

r 

S  X 

'flf 

>• 

' 

A^' 


them  so  many  examples  of  brave   self-denial  and 
pious  devodon. 

^  And  stiU  as  we  scan  the  pages  of  Revolutionary 
his+ory,  or  revive  the  oral  evidence  of  flimily  tradition, 
the  names  and  deeds  of  these  brave  and  good  women 
fill  the  eye  and  multiply  in  the  memory.  Through 
the  fires,  the  frosts,  the  rains,  the  suns  of  one  hund- 
red years,  they  come  back  to  us  now,  in  the  midst  of 
our  great  national  jubilee,  vivid  as  with  the  life  of 
yesterday.  That  era,  which  they  helped  to  make 
glorious,  is  "with  the  years  that  are  beyond  the 
flood."  ^ 

"  Another  race  shall  be,  and  other  palms  are  won ; " 

but  never,  while  our  nation  or  our  language  endures, 
shall  the  memory  of  those  names  and  deeds  pass 
away.  Li  every  succeeding  year  that  registers  the 
history  of  the  Republic  which  they  contributed  to 
build,  brighter  and  brighter  shall  grow  the  record 
cf  the  Patriot  Women  of  the  Revolution. 


.)  < 


I 


'  V.  ■  ^"^  ■■ 


\    V 


CHAPTER   yil. 

MOVING  WEST-PERILS  OF  THE  JOURNET. 

IN  regarding  or  in  enjoying  an  end  already  accom- 
plished by  others,  we  are  too  apt  to  pass  by  the 
mecns  through  which  that  end  was  reached.  America 
of  to-day  represents  a  grand  result.  We  see  that  our 
land  is  great,  rich,  and  powerful ;  we  see  that  the  flag 
waves  from  ocean  to  ocean,  over  a  people  furnished 
with  all  the  appliances  of  civilization,  and  happy  in 
their  enjoyment;  we  are  conscious  that  all  this  has 
come  from  the  toils  and  the  sufferings  of  many  men 
and  of  many  women  who  have  lived  and  loved  before 
us,  and  passed  aAvay,  leaving  behind  them  their  coun- 
try growing  greater  and  richer,  happier  and  more 
powerful,  for  what  they  have  borne  and  done.  But 
our  views  of  the  means  by  which  that  mighty  end  was 
reached  are  apt  to  be  altogether  too  vague  and  gen- 
eral. While  we  are  enjoying  what  others  have  worked 
to  attain,  let  us  not  selfishly  and  forgetfully  pass  by 
the  toils,  the  struggles,  the  firm  endurance  of  those 
who  went  before  us  and  accomplished  this  vast  aggre- 
gate of  results. 

Each  stage  in  the  process  by  which  these  results  were 
wrought  out,  had  its  peculiar  trials,  its  special  service. 
Looking  back  to  that  far-off  past,  and  in  tlic  light  of 
our  own  knowledge  and  conceptions,  we  find  it  almost 
impossible  to  decide  which  stage  was  encompassed 
with  the  deadliest  dangers,  the  severest  labors,  tlie 

A  (150) 


I 


*Nf«i< 


-<  .    I 


WESTWARD  HOI 


151 


. 


ft* 


keenest  sorrows,  the  largest  list  of  discomforts.  But 
certainly  to  woman,  the  breaking  up  of  her  eastern 
home,  8x1(1  the  removal  to  the  far  west,  was  not  the 
least  burdensome  and  trying. 

No  characteristic  of  woman  is  more  remarkable  than 
the  strength  of  her  local  associations  and  attachments. 
In  making  the  home  she  learns  to  love  it,  and  this 
feeling  seems  to  be  often  strongest  when  the  surround- 
ings are  the  bleakest,  the  rudest,  and  the  most  com- 
fortless. The  Highlander  and  the  Switzer  pine 
amid  the  luxuriant  scenes  of  tropical  life,  when  their 
thoughts  revert  to  the  smoky  shieling  or  to  the  rock- 
encompassed  chalet  of  their  far-off  mountains.  Such, 
too,  doubtless,  was  the  clinging  fondness  with  which 
the  women  regarded  their  rude  cabins  on  the  frontier 
of  the  Atlantic  States.  They  had  toiled  and  fought 
to  make  these  rude  abodes  tha  homes  for  those  dearest 
to  them ;  here  children,  the  first-born  of  the  Republic, 
had  boon  nurtured  ;  hero,  too,  were  the  graves  of  the 
tirst  fathers  and  mothers  of  America.  Humble  and 
comfortless  as  those  dwelling-places  would  have  seemed 
to  the  men  and  women  of  to-day,  they  were  dear  to 
the  wives  and  mothers  of  colonial  times. 

Comprehending,  as  we  may,  this  feeling,  and  know- 
ing the  peculiar  difliculties  of  long  journeys  in  those 
days,  into  a  wild  and  hostile  country,  we  can  under- 
stand why  the  wcstv/ard  march  of  emigration  and  set- 
tlement was  so  slow  during  the  first  one  hundred  and 
fifty  or  sixty  yciws  of  our  history.  New  England  had, 
it  is  true,  boon  largely  subjugated  and  reclaimed ;  a 
considerable  body  of  emigrants,  wodgc-like,  were  driv- 
ing slowly  up  through  the  ^lohawk  A^'alloy  towards 
Niagara  j  a  weak,  thin  line,  was  straggling  with  di.Ti- 


irrmriiiHi^wMM 


152 


MOVING  WEST— PERILS  OF  THE  JOURNEY. 


! 


culty  across  the  Alleghanles  in  Pennsylvania,  towards 
the  Ohio,  and  a  more  compact  and  confident  battalion 
in  Virginia,  was  pushing  into  Kentucky.  But  how 
scattered  and  feeble  that  packet-line  compared  to  the 
army  which  was  soon  to  follow  it. 

For  a  season,  and  while  the  British  were  trying  to 
force  their  yoke  on  the  reluctant  colonists,  the  west- 
ward movement  had  a  check.  The  danger  was  in  the 
rear.  His  old  home  in  the  east  was  threatened,  and 
the  pioneer  turned  about  and  faced  the  rising  sun, 
until  the  danger  was  past  and  he  could  pursue  his 
journey. 

The  close  of  the  Revolutionary  struggle  gave  a  new 
impulse  to  the  westward  march  of  the  American  peo- 
ple, which  had  been  arrested  for  the  time  being  by 
the  War  of  Independence. 

The  patriot  soldiers  found  themselves,  upon  the 
advent  of  peace,  impoverished  in  for+"-ie;  but  Avith 
high  hopes  and  stout  hearts  they  immediately  set 
about  repairing  the  ravages  of  the  long  war.  Nur- 
tured in  the  rugged  school  of  danger  and  hardship, 
they  had  ceased  to  regard  the  West  with  dread.  Cu- 
riosity, blended  with  the  hope  of  bettering  their  con- 
dition, turned  their  faces  to  that  "  fresh,  unbounded, 
magnificent  wilderness."  Accustomed  to  camp  life 
and  scenes  of  exciting  interest,  the  humdrum  dnys  at 
the  old  homestead  became  distn;.teful.  The  West  was 
the  hunter's  paradise.  The  soil  hold  beneath  it  the 
potency  of  harvests  of  extraordinary  richness,  and  the 
soldier  who  had  faced  the  disciplined  battalions  of 
Great  Britain  recked  little  of  the  prowling  red  man. 

During  the  Revolution,  the  women,  loft  alone  by 
their  husbands  and  fathers,  who  were  with  the  army, 


^'  y 


/' ' 


.. 


+ 


AN  ARMY  WITH  BANNERS. 


153 


were  more  than  ever  thrown  on  their  own  resources. 
They  tilled  the  farm,  reared  their  swarthy  and  nimble 
broods  of  children,  and  sent  the  boys  in  blue  and  buff 
all  they  could  spare  from  their  slender  store.  During 
all  this  trying  period  they  were  fitting  themselves  for 
that  new  life  in  the  western  wilds  which  had  been 
marked  out  for  them  by  the  hand  of  an  overruling 
Providence. 

And  yet,  hard  and  lonely  as  the  lives  of  these  de- 
voted women  must  have  been  in  their  eastern  homes, 
and  bright  as  their  imaginations  may  have  pictured 
the  richness  of  the  West,  it  must  have  given  them 
many  a  pang  when  the  husband  and  father  told  them 
that  the  whole  family  must  be  removed  at  once  from 
their  beloved  homestead,  which  they  or  their  fathers 
had  redeemed  from  the  wilderness  after  so  many  years 
of  toil.  We  may  imagine  the  resolution  that  was  re- 
q^uired  to  break  up  the  old  attachments  which  bind 
women  to  their  homes  and  firesides. 

It  must  have  required  a  heroic  courage  to  do  this 
i'or  the  purpose  of  seeking  a  new  home,  not  only 
among  strangers,  but  among  wild  beasts  and  savages. 
But  the  fathers  and  mothers  a  hundred  years  ago  pos- 
sessed a  spirit  which  rose  above  the  perils  of  their 
times.  They  went  forward,  unhesitatingly,  in  their 
long  and  toilsome  journeys  westward,  driving  their 
slow-footed  oxen  and  lumbering-wagons  hundreds  of 
miles,  over  ground  where  no  road  was ;  through  woods 
infested  with  bears  and  wolves,  panthers  and  warliko 
tribes  of  Indians ;  settling  in  the  midst  of  those  danger- 
ous enemies,  and  conquering  them  all. 

The  army  of  pioneers,  like  the  skirmishers  who  had 
preceded  them,  moved  forward  in  three  colunnisj  tho 


Hi 


gBjyfiaga 


154 


MOVING  WEST— PERILS  OF  THE  JOURNEY. 


northernmost  passed  through  New  York  State ;  the 
middle  column  moved  westward  through  Pennsylvania; 
the  southernmost  marched  through  Virginia.  Within 
ten  years  after  the  treaty  of  Versailles,  the  three 
columns  had  met  in  Ohio  and  Kentucky,  and  spreading 
out  over  that  beautiful  region,  were  fighting  with 
nature  and  savage  men  to  subjugate  both  and  bring 
them  within  the  bounds  of  civilization.  No  more  sub- 
lime spectacle  has  ever  greeted  the  eye  of  the  histo- 
rian than  the  march  of  that  army.  Twenty  or  thirty 
thousand  men  and  women,  bearing,  like  the  Israelites 
of  old,  their  ark  across  the  desert  and  waste  places — 
that  ark  which  bore  the  blessinp;^  of  civilization  and 
religion  within  its  holy  shrine  !  Aged  matrons,  nurs- 
ing mothers,  prattling  infants,  hoary  patriarchs,  and 
strong  veterans  fresh  from  the  fields  of  their  country's 
glory,  marching  to  form  a  miglny  empire  in  the  wil- 
derness ! 

In  this  present  age  of  rapid  and  easy  transition 
from  place  to  place,  it  is  difficult  to  form  a  just  con- 
ception of  the  tediousness,  hardships,  and  duration  of 
those  early  emigrations  to  the  West.  The  difference 
in  conveyance  is  that  between  a  train  of  cars  drawn 
l)y  a  forty-ton  locomotive  and  a  two-horse  wagon, 
without  springs,  and  of  the  most  lumbering  and  prim- 
itive construction.  This  latter  was  the  best  convey- 
ance that  the  emigrant  could  command.  A  few  were 
so  fortunately  situated  on  the  banks  of  rivers  that  they 
could  float  down  with  tlie  current  in  flat-boats,  while 
their  cattle  were  being  driven  along  the  shore ;  or,  if 
it  was  necessary  to  ascend  toward  the  head-waters  of 
a  river,  they  coidd  work  their  way  up-stream  with 


Bctting-poles.     But  most  of  the 


emigrants 


traveled 


i 


THROUGH  DARKNESS  TO  LIGHT. 


155 


I     ( 
) 


with  teams.  Some  of  those  who  went  part  of  the 
way  in  boats  had  to  begin  or  end  their  journey  in 
wagons.  The  vehicles  which  they  provided  on  such 
occasions  for  land  carriage  were  curiosities  of  wheel- 
craft — I  spoak  of  the  Jersey  wagons. 

The  old-fashioned  Jersey  wagon  has,  years  ago, 
given  place  to  more  showy  and  flexible  vehicles ;  but 
long  before  such  were  invented  the  Jersey  wagon  was 
an  established  institution,  and  was  handed  down,  with 
the  family  name,  from  father  to  son.  It  w^as  the  great 
original  of  the  modern  emigrant  wagon  of  the  West ; 
but  as  I  have  elsewhere  pictured  its  appearance  upon 
the  arrival  of  a  band  of  pioneers  at  their  final  destin- 
ation, it  is  unnecessary  to  enter  here  upon  any  further 
description. 

The  spring  of  the  year  was  the  season  usually 
selected  for  moving,  and  during  many  weeks  previous 
to  the  appointed  time,  the  emigrants  had  been  actively 
providing  against  the  accidents  and  discomforts  of  the 
road.  When  all  was  ready,  the  wagon  w\is  loaded,  the 
oxen  yoked  and  hooked  to  the  neap ;  the  women  and 
children  took  their  places  on  the  summit  of  the  huge 
load,  the  baby  in  its  mother's  lap,  the  youngest  boy  at 
his  grandmother's  feet,  and  off  they  started.  The 
largest  boy  walked  beside  and  drove  the  team,  the 
other  boys  drove  the  cows,  the  men  trudged  behind  or 
ahead,  and  the  whole  cavalcade  passed  out  of  the 
great  gate,  the  grandmother  peering  through  her 
spectacles,  and  the  mother  smiling  through  her  tears 
and  looking  back  more  than  once  at  the  home  tN'hich 
she  had  made  but  wms  now  to  leave  for  ever. 

In  this  manner  the  earlier  emigrants  went  forward, 
driving  their  heavily  laden  wagon  by  day  and  sleeping 


"■'^-"""'■""■— ■" 


156 


MOVING  WEST— PERILS  OF  THE  JOURNEY. 


at  night  by  the  camp.  After  they  had  passed  the 
region  of  roads  and  bridges  they  had  to  literally  hew 
their  way ;  cutting  down  bushes,  prying  their  wagon 
out  of  bog-holes,  building  bridges  or  poling  themselves 
across  streams  on  rafts.  But,  in  defiance  of  every 
obstacle,  they  pressed  forward. 

Neither  rivers  nor  mountains  stayed  the  course  of 
the  emigrant.  Guiding  his  course  by  the  sun,  and 
ever  facing  the  West,  he  went  slowly  on.  When  that 
luminary  set,  his  parting  rays  lit  the  faces  of  the  pio- 
neer family,  and  when  it  rose  it  threw  their  long  shadows 
before  them  on  the  soft,  spongy  turf  of  the  forest 
glades.  Sweating  through  the  undergrowth;  climb- 
ing over  fallen  trees ;  sinking  knee-deep  in  marshes ; 
at  noon  they  halted  to  take  a  rest  in  the  shade  of  the 
primeval  forest,  beside  a  brook,  and  there  eat  their 
mid-day  meal  of  fried  pork  and  corn  cakes,  which  the 
women  prepared ;  then  on  again,  till  the  shadows 
stretched  far  back  toward  their  old  homes. 

Sometimes  a  storm  burst  upon  them,  and  the 
women  and  children  huddled  beneath  the  cart  as  the 
thunderbolts  fell,  shivering  the  huge  trunks  of  the 
forest  monarchs;  and  the  lightning  crimsoned  the 
faces  of  the  forlorn  party  with  its  glare.  Then  tuc 
heavens  cleared ;  the  sun  came  out ;  and  the  ox-cart 
went  rumbling  and  creaking  onward.  No  doubt  the 
first  days  of  that  weary  tramp  had  in  them  something 
of  pleasurable  excitement;  the  breezes  of  spring 
fanned  the  brows  of  the  wayfarers,  and  told  of  the 
health  and  freedom  of  woodland  life ;  the  magnificence 
of  the  forest,  the  summits  of  the  mountains,  tinged 
with  blue,  the  sparkling  waters  of  lake  and  stream, 
must  have  given  joy  to  even  the  most  stolid  of  those 


/•t 


r  I 


\    H^ 


CASUALTIES  AND  GREAT  PERSONAL  RISKS.        157 

households.  But  emotions  of  this  description  soon 
became  strangers  to  their  souls. 

But  the  emigrants  ere  long  found  that  the  wilder- 
ness had  lost  the  charms  of  novelty.  Sights  and 
sounds  that  were  at  first  pleasing,  and  had  lessener* 
the  sense  of  discomfort,  soon  ceased  to  attract  atten- 
tion. Their  minds,  solely  occupied  with  obstacles, 
inconveniences,  and  obstructions,  at  every  step  of  the 
way,  became  sullen,  or,  at  least,  indifferent. 

To  the  toils  and  discomforts  incident  to  their  jour- 
ney were  often  added  casualties  and  great  personal 
risks.  An  unlucky  step  might  wrench  an  ankle ;  the 
axe  might  glance  from  a  twig  and  split  a  foot  open; 
and  a  broken  leg,  or  a  severed  artery,  is  a  frightful 
thing  where  no  surgeon  can  be  had.  Exposure  to  all 
the  changes  of  the  weather — sleeping  upon  the  damp 
ground,  frequently  brought  on  fevers ;  and  sickness, 
at  all  times  a  great  calamity,  was  infinitely  more  so  to 
the  pioneer.  It  must  have  been  appalling  in  the 
woods.  Many  a  mother  has  carried  her  wailing,  lan- 
guishing child  in  her  arms,  to  lessen  the  jolting  of  the 
wagon,  without  being  able  to  render  it  the  necessary 
assistance.  Many  a  family  has  paused  on  the  way  to 
gather  a  leafy  couch  for  a  dying  brother  or  sister. 
Many  a  parent  has  laid  in  the  grave,  in  the  lonely 
wilderness,  the  child  they  should  meet  no  more  till  the 
morning  of  the  resurrection.  Many  a  heart  at  the 
West  has  yearned  at  the  thought  of  the  treasured 
one  resting  beneath  the  spreading  tree.  After-comers 
have  stopped  over  the  little  mound,  and  pondered 
upon  the  rude  memorial  carved  in  the  bark  above  it ; 
and  those  who  had  sustained  a  similar  loss  have  wrung 


"f^ 


M    \ 


158 


MOVING  WEST— PERILS  OF  THE  JOURNEY. 


their  hands  and  wept  over  it,  for  their  own  wounds 
were  opened  afresh. 

Among  the  chapters  of  accident  and  casualty  which 
make  up  the  respective  diaries  of  the  families  who  left 
their  eastern  homes  after  the  Revolution  and  joined 
the  ranks  of  the  Western  immigrants  there  is  none 
more  interesting  than  that  of  Mrs.  Jameson.  She  was 
the  child  of  wealthy  parents,  and  had  been  reared  in 
luxury  in  the  city  of  New  York.  Soon  after  peace 
was  declared  she  was  married  to  Edward  Jameson,  a 
brave  soldier  in  the  war,  who  had  nothing  but  his  stout 
arms  and  intrepid  heart  to  battle  with  the  difficulties 
of  hfe.  Her  father,  dying  soon  after,  his  estate  was 
discovered  to  have  been  greatly  lessened  by  the  dej) 
ciation  in  value  which  the  war  had  produced.  Gath- 
ering together  the  remains  of  what  was  once  a  large 
fortune,  the  couple  purchased  the  usual 'outfit' of  th& 
emigrants  of  that  period  and  set  out  to  seek  their  for- 
tunes in  the  West. 

All  went  well  with  them  until  they  reached  the 
Alleghany  River,  which  they  undertook  to  cross  on  a 
raft.  It  was  the  month  of  May;  the  river  had  been 
swollen  by  rains,  and  when  they  reached  the  middle 
of  the  stream,  the  part  of  the  raft  on  which  Mr. 
Jameson  sat  became  detached,  the  logs  separated,  and 
he  sank  to  rise  no  more.  The  other  section  of  the 
raft,  containing  Mrs.  Jameson,  her  babe  of  eight 
months,  and  a  chest  of  clothing  and  household  gear, 
floated  down-stream  at  the  mercy  of  the  raj)id  cur- 
rent. 

Bracing  herself  against  the  shock,  Mrs.  Jameson 
managed  to  paddle  to  the  side  of  the  river  from  which 
she  had  just  before  started.     She  was  landed  nearly  a 


* 

*' 


4' 
3 


L 


13 

g 

P 
O 
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CO 

n 

Q 

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a 

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■mamBt 


1 


m 


A  FRIGHTFUL  DISASTER. 


159 


1 


mile  below  the  point  where  had  been  left  the  cattle, 
and  also  the  ox-cart  in  which  their  journey  had  been 
hitherto  performed,  and  which  her  husband  expected 
to  carry  over  the  river  on  the  raft,  returning  for 
them  as  soon  as  his  wife  and  babe  had  been  safely 
landed  on  the  western  bank.  The  desolate  mother 
succeeded  in  mooring  the  remains  of  the  raft  to  the 
shore ;  then  clasping  her  babe  to  her  bosom,  followed 
the  bank  of  the  river  till  she  reached  the  oxen  and 
cart,  which  she  drove  down  to  the  place  where  she 
landed,  and  by  great  exertions  succeeded  in  hauling 
the  chest  upon  the  bank.  Her  strength  was  now 
exhausted,  and,  lying  down  in  the  bottom  of  the  cart, 
she  gave  way  to  grief  and  despair. 

Her  situation  may  be  easily  imagined :  alone  in  the 
forest,  thirty  miles  from  the  nearest  settlement,  her 
husband  torn  from  her  in  a  moment,  and  her  babe 
smiling  as  though  he  would  console  his  mother  for  her 
terrible  loss.  In  her  sad  condition  self-preservation 
would  have  been  too  feeble  a  motive  to  impel  her  to 
make  any  further  effort  to  save  herself;  but  maternal 
love — the  strongest  instinct  in  a  woman's  heart — 
buoyed  her  up  and  stimulated  her  to  unwonted  exer- 
tions. 

The  spot  where  she  found  herself  was  a  dense  forest, 
stretching  back  to  a  rocky  ledge  on  the  east,  and  ter- 
minated on  the  north  by  an  alluvial  meadow  nearly 
bare  of  trees.  Along  the  banks  of  the  river  was  a 
thick  line  of  high  bushes  and  saplings,  which  served 
as  a  screen  against  the  observations  of  savages  passing 
up  and  down  the  river  in  their  canoes.  The  woods 
were  just  bursting  into  leaf;  the  spring-flowers  filled 
the  air  with  odor,  and  chequered  the  green  foliage 


h    1 


160 


MOVING  WEST-PERILS  OF  TEE  JOURNEY. 


and  grass ;  the  whole  scene  was  full  of  vernal  fresh- 
ness^ life,  and  beauty.  The  track  which  the  Jamesons 
had  followed  was  about  midway  between  the  northern 
and  southern  routes  generally  pursued  by  emigrants, 
and  it  was  quite  unlikely  that  others  would  cross  the 
river  at  that  point.  The  dense  jungle  that  skirted  the 
river  bank  was  an  impediment  in  the  way  of  reaching 
the  settlements  lower  do%vn,  and  there  Avas  danger  of 
being  lost  in  the  woods  if  the  unfortunate  woman 
should  ptart  alone. 

"On  this  spot,"  she  said,  "I  must  remain  till  some 
one  comes  to  my  help." 

The  first  two  yecim  of  her  married  life  had  been 
spent  on  a  farm  in  Westchester  County,  New  YorL 
where  she  ha^l  acquired  some  knowledge  of  farming? 
and  woodcraft,  by  assisting  her  husband  in  his  labors, 
or  by  accompanying  him  while  hunting  and  fishing 
She  was  strong  and  healthy ;  and  quite  unlike  hei 
delicate  sisters  of  modern  days^  her  lithe  frame  was 
hardened  by  exercise  in  the  open  air,  and  lier  face 
w"    ""iny-ed  bv  the  kisses  of  the  sun. 

cJowly  recovering  from  tue  terrible  anguish  of  her 
loss,  she  cast  about  for  shelter  and  sustenance.  The 
woods  were  sv.arming  with  game,  both  large  and 
small,  from  th3  fieei-  to  tlio  rabbit,  and  from  the  wild 
turkey  to  the  quail.  The  brooks  wer.  alive  witli  trout. 
The  meodow  was  well  suited  for  Indian  corn,  wheat, 
rye,  or  potatoes.  The  fo\-cst  was  full  of  trees  of  every 
description.  To  utilize  all  these  raw  materials  was 
her  study. 

A  rude  hut,  built  of  boughs  interlaced,  and  covered 
thickly  witii  leaven;  and  dry  swamp  gra,ss,  was  her  first 
work.     This  was  her  kitchen.     The  cart,  which  was 


^ 


THROWN  ON  HER  OWN  RESOURCES. 


161 


covered  with  canvas,  was  her  sleeping-room.  A  shot- 
gun, which  she  had  learned  the  use  of,  enabled  her  to 
keep  herself  supplied  with  game.  She  examined  her 
store  of  provisions,  consisting  of  pork,  flour,  and  In 
dian  meal,  and  made  an  estimate  that  they  would  la^t 
eight  months,  with  prudent  use.  The  oxen  she  teth- 
ered at  first,  but  afterwards  tied  the  horns  to  one  of 
their  fore  feet,  and  let  them  roam.  Thf-  two  cows 
having  calved  soon  after,  she  kept  them  near  at  hand 
by  making  a  pen  for  the  calves,  who  by  their  bleating 
called  their  mothers  from  the  pastures  on  the  banks 
of  the  river.  In  the  meadow  she  planted  half  an  acre 
of  corn  and  potatoes,  which  soon  promised  an  amazing 
crop. 

Thus  two  months  passed  away.  In  her  solitary  and 
sad  condition  she  was  cheered  by  the  daily  hope  that 
white  settlers  would  cross  her  track  or  see  her  as  they 
passed  up  and  down  the  river.  She  often  thought  of 
trying  to  reach  a  settlement,  but  dreaded  the  dangers 
and  difficulties  of  the  way.  Like  the  doe  which  hides 
her  fawn  in  the  secret  covert,  this  young  mother 
deemed  herself  and  her  babe  safer  in  this  solitude 
than  in  trying  unknown  perils,  even  with  the  chance 
of  falling  in  with  friends.  She  therefore  contented 
herself  with  her  lot,  and  when  the  toils  of  the  day 
were  over,  she  would  sit  on  the  bank  and  watch  ibc 
voyagers  on  the  river.  Once  she  heard  voices  in  the 
night  on  the  river,  and  going  to  the  bank  she  strained 
her  eyes  to  gaze  through  the  darkness  and  catch  sight 
of  the  voyagers ;  she  dared  not  hail  them  for  fear 
tlioy  might  be  Indians,  and  soon  the  voices  grew 
fainter  in  the  distance,  and  she  heard  them  no  more. 
Again,  while  .sitting  in  a  clump  of  bushes  on  the  bank 
11 


39 


162 


MOVING  WEST-PERILS  OF  THE  JOURNEY. 


one  day,  she  saw  with  horror  six  canoes  with  Indians, 
apparently  directing  their  course  to  the  spot  where 
she  sat.  They  were  hideously  streaked  with  war- 
paint, and  came  so  near  that  she  could  see  the  scalp- 
ing knives  in  their  girdles.  Turning  their  course  as 
they  approached  the  eastern  shore  they  silently  pad- 
dled down  stream,  scanning  the  banks  sharply  as  they 
floated  past.  Fortunately  they  saw  nothing  to  attract 
their  attention ;  the  cart  and  hut  being  concealed  by 
the  dense  bushes,  and  there  being  no  fire  burning. 

Fearing  molestation  from  the  Indians,  she  now 
moved  her  camp  a  hundred  rods  back,  near  a  rocky 
ledge,  from  the  base  of  which  flowed  a  spring  of  pure 
water.  Here,  by  rolling  stones  in  a  circle,  she  made 
an  enclosure  for  her  cattle  at  night,  and  within  in  \\ 
built  a  log  cabin  of  rather  f  mil  construction;  another 
two  weeks  was  consumed  iu  these  labors,  and  it  waa 
now  the  middle  of  August. 

At  night  she  was  at  first  much  alarmed  by  the  howl- 
ing of  wolves,  who  came  sniffing  round  the  crrt  where 
she  slept.  Once  a  large  grey  wolf  put  its  jiaws  upon 
the  cart  and  poked  its  nose  under  the  canvas  covering, 
but  a  smart  blow  on  the  snout  drove  it  yelping  away. 
None  of  the  cattle  were  attacked,  owing  to  the  bold 
front  showed  to  these  midnight  intruders.  The  wolf 
is  one  of  the  most  cowardly  of  wild  beasts,  and  will 
rarely  attack  a  human  being,  or  even  an  ox,  unless 
pressed  by  hunger,  and  in  the  winter.  Often  she 
caught  glimpses  of  huge  black  bears  in  the  swamps, 
while  she  was  in  pursuit  of  wild  turkeys  or  other 
game ;  but  these  creatures  never  attacked  her,  and 
she  gave  them  a  wide  berth. 

One  hot  day  in  August  she  was  gathering  berries 


f 


A  FIGHT  WITH  A  RATTLESNAKE. 


163 


on  the  rocky  ledge  beside  which  her  house  was  situ- 
ated, when  seeing  a  clump  of  bushes  heavily  loaded 
with  the  finest  blackberries,  she  laid  her  babe  upon 
the  ground,  and  climbing  up,  soon  filled  her  basket 
with  the  luscious  fruit.  As  she  descended  she  saw  her 
babe  sitting  upright  and  gazing  with  fixed  eyeballs  at 
some  object  near  by ;  though  what  it  was  she  could 
not  clearly  make  out,  on  account  of  an  intervening 
shrub.  Hastening  down,  a  sight  met  her  eyes  that 
froze  her  blood.  An  enormous  rattlesnake  was  coiled 
within  three  feet  of  her  child,  and  with  its  head  erect 
and  its  forked  tongue  vibrating,  its  burning  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  those  of  the  child,  which  sat  motionless  as 
a  stntue,  apparently  fascinated  by  the  deadly  gaze  of 
the  •"pent.     - 

Seizing  a  stick  of  dry  wood  she  dealt  the  reptile  a 
blow,  but  the  stick  being  decayed  and  brittle,  inflicted 
little  injury  on  the  serpent,  and  only  caused  it  to  turn 
itself  towards  Mrs.  Jameson,  and  fix  its  keen  and 
beautiful,  but  malignant  eyes,  steadily  upon  her.  The 
witchery  of  the  serpent's  eyes  so  irresistibly  rooted 
her  to  the  ground,  that  for  a  moment  she  did  not 
wish  to  remove  from  her  formidable  opponent. 

The  huge  reptile  grudujilly  and  slowly  uncoiled  its 
body ;  all  the  while  steadily  keeping  its  eye  fixed  on 
its  intended  victim.  Mrs.  Jameson  could  only  cry, 
being  unable  to  move,  "  Oh  God  !  preserve  me  !  save 
me,  heavenly  Father !"  The  child,  after  the  snake's 
charm  was  broken,  crept  to  her  mother  and  buried 
its  little  head  in  lu>r  lap. 

We  continue  the  story  in  Mrs.  Jameson's  own 
words : — 

•'  The  snake  now  began  to  writhe  its  body  down  a 


I 


MtMtKHtXHtM:: a««.l.:M.^i 


164 


MOVING  WEST— PERILS  OF  THE  JOURNEY. 


fissure  in  the  rock,  keeping  its  head  elevated  more 
than  a  foot  from  the  ground.  Its  rattle  made  very 
little  noise.  It  every  moment  darted  out  its  forked 
tongue,  its  eyes  became  reddish  and  inflamed,  and  it 
moved  rather  quicker  than  at  first.  It  was  now  within 
two  yards  of  me.  By  some  means  I  had  dissipated 
the  charm,  and,  roused  by  a  sense  of  my  awful  danger, 
determined  to  stand  on  the  defensive.  To  run  away 
from  it,  I  knew  would  be  impracticable,  as  the  snake 
would  instantly  dart  its  whole  body  after  mo.  I  there- 
fore resolutely  stood  up,  and  put  a  strong  glove  on 
my  right  hand,  which  I  happened  to  have  with  me. 
I  stretched  ouL  my  arm  ;  the  snake  approached  slowly 
and  cautiously  towards  me,  darting  out  its  tongue  still 
more  frequently.  I  could  now  only  recommend  my- 
self fervently  to  the  protection  of  Heaven.  The 
snake,  when  about  a  yard  distant,  made  a  violent 
spring.  I  quickly  caught  it  in  my  right  hand,  directly 
under  its  head ;  it  lashed  its  body  on  the  ground,  at 
the  same  time  rattling  loudly.  I  watched  an  oppor- 
tunity, and  suddenly  holding  the  aninuil's  head,  while 
for  a  moment  it  drew  in  its  forked  tongue,  with  my 
left  hand  I,  by  a  violent  contraction  of  all  the  muscles 
in  my  hand,  contrived  to  close  up  effectually  its  jaws ! 
"Much  was  now  done,  but  much  more  was  to  be 
done.  I  had  avoided  much  danger,  but  I  was  still  in 
very  perilous  circumstances.  If  I  moved  niy  right 
hand  from  its  neck  for  a  moment,  the  snake,  by  avoid- 
ing sullbcation,  could  easily  muster  suflicient  power  to 
force  its  head  out  of  my  hand;  and  if  I  withdrew  my 
hand  from  its  jaws,  I  should  be  fatally  in  the  power  of 
its  most  dreaded  fangs.  I  retained,  therefore,  my  liold 
with  both  niv  hands;  I  drew  its  body  between 


1^ 


,M 


i 


my 


my 


DEATB  OF  TBE  SNAKE. 


165 


ir 


,. 


feet,  in  order  to  aid  the  compression  and  hasten  suftb- 
cation.  Suddenly,  the  snake,  which  had  remained 
quiescent  for  a  few  moments,  brought  up  its  tail,  hit 
me  violently  on  the  head,  and  then  darted  its  body 
several  times  very  tigbily  around  ray  waist.  Now 
was  the  very  acme  of  my  danger.  Thinking,  there- 
fore, that  I  had  sufficient  power  over  its  body,  I 
removed  my  right  hand  from  its  neck,  and  in  an 
instant  drew  my  hunting-knife.  The  snake,  writhing 
furiously  again,  darted  at  me ;  but,  striking  its  body 
with  the  edge  of  the  knife,  I  made  a  deep  cut,  and 
before  it  could  recover  its  coil,  I  caught  it  again  by 
the  neck ;  bending  its  head  on  my  knee,  and  again 
recommending  myself  fervently  to  Heaven,  I  cut  its 
head  from  its  body,  throwing  the  head  to  a  great 
distance.  The  blood  spouted  violently  in  my  face ; 
the  snake  compressed  its  body  still  tighter,  and  I 
thought  I  should  be  suffocated  on  the  spot,  and  laid 
myself  down.  The  snako  again  rattled  its  tail  and 
lashed  m;,  feet  with  it  Gradually,  however,  the 
creatiu'e  relaxed  its  hold,  its  coils  fell  slack  around 
me,  and  untwisting  it  and  throwing  it  from  me  as  far 
.IS  I  was  able,  I  sank  doAvn  and  swooned  upon  the 
bank. 

"  When  consciousness  returned,  the  scene  appeared 
like  a  terrible  dream,  till  I  saw  the  dead  body  of  my 
reptile  foe  and  my  babe  crying  violently  and  nestling 
in  my  bosom.  The  ledge  near  which  my  cabin  was 
built  was  infested  with  rattlesnakes,  and  the  one  I 
had  slain  seemed  to  be  the  patriarch  of  a  numerous 
family.  From  that  day  I  vowed  veugcanoi^  against 
the  whole  tribe  of  repliles.  These  creatures  were  in 
the  hubil  ot  coming  down  to  the  spring  to  drink,  and 


m 


m 


v*^v^"^m '  '^'''^'WBii!i-f".fWf!^Pi|piwiww|ij||]j 


I 


V     .  '^ 


I 


! 


166 


MOVING  WEST— PERILS  OF  THE  JOURNEY. 


I  sometimes  killed  four  or  live  in  a  day.     Before  th 
summer  was  over  I  made  an  end  of  the  whole  family." 

In  September,  two  households  of  emigrants  floating 
down  the  river  on  a  flatboat,  caught  sight  of  Mrs. 
Jameson  as  she  made  a  signal  to  them  from  the  bank, 
and  coming  to  land  were  pleased  with  the  country, 
and  were  persuaded  to  settle  there.  The  little  com- 
munity was  now  swelled  to  fifteen,  including  four 
women  and  six  children.  The  colony  throve,  received 
accessions  from  the  East,  and,  surviving  all  casualties, 
grew  at  last  into  a  populous  town.  Mrs.  Jameson 
was  married  again  to  a  stahvart  backwoodsman  and 
became  the  mother  of  a  large  family.  She  was  always 
known  as  the  "Mother  of  the  Alleghany  Settlement." 

Not  a  few  of  the  pioneer  women  penetrated  the 
"West  by  means  of  boats.  The  Lakes  and  the  River 
Ohio  were  the  water-courses  by  which  the  advance 
guard  of  the  army  of  emigrants  was  enabled  to  reacli 
the  fertile  regions  adjacent  thereto.  This  mode  of 
travel,  while  free  from  many  of  the  hindrances  and 
hardships  of  the  land  routes,  was  subject  to  other 
casualties  and  dangers.  Storms  on  the  lakes,  and 
snags  and  shoals  on  the  rivers,  often  made  the  pioneers 
regret  that  they  had  left  the  forests  for  the  waters. 
The  banks  of  the  rivers  were  infested  witli  savages, 
who  slaughtered  and  scalped  the  men  and  carried  tlie 
women  and  children  into  a  captivity  whicli  was  worse 
than  death.  The  early  annals  of  the  West  are  full  of 
tlie  sad  stories  of  such  captivities,  and  of  the  women 
who  took  part  in  these  terrible  scenes. 

The  following  instances  will  be  inteivsthig  to  the 
reader : 

In  the  latlor  part  of  April,  1T81,  one  Mr.  Rowan, 


-i 


,. 


SAVAGE  ORGIES. 


167 


with  his  own  and  five  other  families,  set  out  from 
Louisville,  in  two  flat-bottomed  boats,  for  the  Long 
Falls  of  Green  liver.  Their  intention  was  to  descend 
the  Ohio  to  the  mouth  of  Green  River,  then  ascend 
that  stream  to  their  place  of  destination.  At  that 
time  there  were  uo  settlements  in  Kentucky  within 
one  hundred  mileA  of  Long  Falls,  afterwards  called 
Vienna. 

Having  driven  their  cattle  upon  one  of  the  boats 
they  loaded  the  other  with  their  household  goods, 
farming  implements,  and  stores.  The  latter  was  pro- 
vided with  covers  under  which  the  six  families  could 
sleep,  with  the  exception  of  three  of  the  men  who 
took  charge  of  the  cattle  boat. 

The  first  three  days  of  their  journey  were  passed 
in  ease  and  gaiety.  Floating  with  the  current  and 
using  the  broad  oars  only  to  steer  with,  they  kept  their 
course  in  the  main  channel  where  there  was  little  dan- 
ger of  shoals  and  snags.  The  weather  was  fine  and 
the  scenery  along  the  banks  of  the  majestic  river  had 
that  placid  beauty  that  distinguishes  the  country 
through  which  the  lower  Ohio  rolls  its  mighty  mass  of 
waters  on  their  way  to  the  Mississippi.  These  halcyon 
days  of  the  voyage  were  destined,  however,  to  be  soon 
abruptly  terminated.  They  had  descended  the  river 
about  t»ne  hundred  miles,  gliding  along  in  peace  and 
fancied  security;  the  women  and  children  had  retired 
to  their  bunks,  and  all  of  the  men  except  those  who 
were  steering  the  boat  were  composing  themselves  to 
sleep,  when  suddenly  the  placid  stillnei>:s  of  the  night 
was  broken  by  a  fearful  sound  which  came  from  the 
river  fiU  below  them.  The  steersmen  at  first  sup- 
poHcd  it  was  the  howling  of  wolves.     But  as  they 


•<4 


168 


MOVING  WEST-PERILS  OF  THE  JOURNEY. 


I- 

-J' 


I 


neared  the  spot  from  which  the  sound  proceeded,  on 
rounding  a  bend  in  the  river,  they  saw  the  glare  of 
fires  in  the  darkness;  the  sounds  at  the  same  time  re- 
doubled in  shrillness  and  volume,  and  they  knew  then 
that  a  large  body  of  Indians  were  below  them  and 
would  almost  inevitably  discover  their  boats.  The 
numerous  fires  on  the  Illinois  shore  and  the  peculiar 
yells  of  the  savages  led  them  to  believe  that  a  flat- 
boat  which  preceded  them  had  been  captured  and 
that  the  Indians  were  engaged  in  their  cruel  orgies  of 
torture  and  massacre.  The  two  boats  were  immedi- 
ately lashed  together,  and  the  best  practical  arrange- 
ments Avere  made  for  defending  them.  The  men  were 
distributed  by  Mr.  Rowan  to  the  best  advantage  in 
case  of  an  attack ;  they  were  seven  in  number.  The 
boats  were  neared  to  the  Kentucky  shore,  keeping  off 
from  the  bank  lest  there  might  be  Indians  on  that 
shore  also.  When  they  glided  by  the  uppermost  fire 
they  entertained  a  faint  hope  that  they  might  Cf-cape 
unperceived.  But  they  were  discovered  when  they 
had  passed  about  half  of  the  fires  and  commanded  to 
halt.  They  however  remained  silent,  for  Mr.  Rowan 
had  given  strk^t  orders  that  no  one  sliould  utter  any 
sound  but  that  of  the  rifle  ;  and  not  that  until  the  In- 
dians sliould  come  within  reach.  The  savages  united 
in  a  uiost  terrific  yell,  rushed  to  their  canoes  and  pur- 
sued them.  The_)  floated  on  in  silence — not  an  oar 
was  pulled.  The  encmv  approached  the  boats  within 
a  hundred  yards,  with  a  seeming  determination  to 
board  them. 

Just  at  this  moment  Mrs.  Rowan  rose  from  her  scat, 
collected  the  axes  and  placed  one  by  the  side  of  each 
man,  wheie  he  stood  with  his  gun,  touching  hiin  ou 


s 


1 


OyWARD!    EVER  ONWARD! 


169 


'F- 


i\' 


i 


the  knee  with  the  handle  of  the  axe  as  she  leaned  it 
up  beside  him  against  the  edge  of  the  boat,  to  let  him 
know  it  was  there.  She  then  retired  to  her  seat,  re- 
taining a  hatchet  for  herself. 

None  but  those  who  have  had  a  practical  acquaint- 
ance with  Indian  warfare,  can  form  a  just  idea  of  the 
terror  which  their  hideous  yelling  is  calculated  to  in- 
spire. When  heard  that  night  in  the  mighty  solitude 
through  which  those  boats  were  passing,  we  are  told 
that  most  of  the  voyagers  were  panic-stricken  and  al- 
most nerveless  until  Mrs.  Rowan's  calm  resolution  and 
intrepidity  inspired  them  with  a  portion  of  her  own 
undaunted  spirit.  The  Indians  continued  hovering  on 
their  rear  and  yelling,  for  nearly  three  miles,  when 
awed  by  the  inference  which  they  drew  from  the  si- 
lence of  the  party  in  the  boat,  they  relinquished 
farther  pursuit. 

"Woman's  companionship  and  influence  are  nowhere 
more  necessary  than  on  the  long  and  tedious  journey 
of  the  pioneer  to  the  West.  Man  is  a  born  rover.  He 
?ails  over  perilous  seas  and  beneath  unfamiliar  con- 
stellations, lie  penetrates  the  trackless  forest  and 
scales  the  mountains  for  gain  or  glory  or  out  of  mere 
love  of  motion  and  adventure.  A  life  away  from  the 
fetters  and  conventionalities  of  civilized,^  society  also 
has  its  charms  to  the  manly  heart.  '  The  free  air  of 
the  boundless  wilderness  acts  on  many  natures  as  a 
stimulus  to  effort,  but  it  seems  also  to  breed  a  spirit  of 
unrest.  *' I  will  not  stay  here  !  whither  shall  I  go?'* 
Thus  the  spirit  whispers  to  itself  Motion,  only  mo- 
tion !  Onward  !  ever  onward  !  The  restless  foot  of 
the  })i()neer  has  reached  a  id  climbed  the  mountains. 
lie  pauses  but  a  moment  to  gnze  at  the  valley  and 


rmei 


J-L».^'«UmW|^»^,.,.,«,^.,^.,^,^„^. 


< 


I 


170 


MOVING  WEST— PERILS  OF  THE  JOURNEY. 


presses  forward.  The  valley  reached  and  he  must 
cross  the  river,  and  now  the  unbounded  expanse  of 
the  plain  spreads  before  him.  Traversing  this  after 
many  weary  days  he  stands  beneath  a  mightier  moun- 
tain-range towering  above  him.  Up  !  up  !  Struggling 
upward  but  ever  onward  he  has  reached  the  snowy 
summit  and  gazes  upon  wider  valleys  lit  by  a  kinglier 
sun  and  spanned  by  kindlier  skies ;  and  far  off  he  sees 
sparkling  in  the  evening  light  another  and  grander 
ocean  on  whose  shores  he  must  pause.  Thus  by  vari- 
ous motives  and  impulses  the  line  which  bounds  the 
area  of  civilized  society  is  constantly  being  extended. 

But  all  through  this  tumult  of  the  mind  and  heart, 
through  this  rush  of  motion  and  life  there  is  heard  an- 
other voice.  Soft  and  penetrating  it  sounds  in  the 
hour  of  calm  and  stillness  and  tells  of  happiness  and 
repose.  As  in  the  beautiful  scng  one  word  is  its  bur- 
den, Home  !  Home  !  Sweet  Home  !  where  the  lonely 
heart  and  toil-worn  feet  may  find  rest.  That  voice 
must  have  its  answer,  that  aspiration  must  be  reached 
by  the  aid  of  woman.  It  is  she,  and  only  she  that 
makes  the  home.  Around  her  as  a  beaming  nucleus 
are  attracted  and  gather  the  thousand  lesser  lights  of 
the  fireside.  She  is  the  central  figure  of  the  domestic 
group,  and  where  she  is  not,  there  is  no  home.  Man 
may  explore  a  continent,  subjugate  nature  and  con- 
quer savage  races,  but  no  permanent  settlement  can 
be  made  nor  an}'  new  empire  formed  without  the  alli- 
ance of  woman. 

She  must  therefore  be  the  companion  of  the  restless 
rover  on  his  westward  march,  in  order  that  the  secret 
cravings  of  his  soul  may  be  at  last  satisfied  in  that 


1 1 


A  REMARKABLE  FAMILY. 


171 


4 


home  of  happiness  and  rest,  which  woman  alone  can 
form. 

Nothing  will  better  illustrate  the  restless  and  indom- 
itable spirit  that  inspires  the  western  pioneer,  and  at 
tlie  same  time  display  the  constant  companionship  and 
tireless  energy  of  woman,  than  the  singular  history 
of  a  family  named  Moody*  The  emigrant  ancestors 
of  this  family  lived  and  died  in  eastern  Massachusetts, 
where  after  arriving  from  England,  in  1634,  they  first 
settled.  In  1675,  two  of  the  daughters  were  living 
west  of  the  Connecticut  river.  A  grand-daughter  of 
the  emigrant  was  settled  near  the  New  York  boundary 
line  in  1720.  Her  daughter  marrying  a  Dutch  farmer 
of  Schoharie  made  her  home  in  the  valley  of  the 
Mohawk  during  the  French  and  Indian  wars  and  the 
Revolution.  In  1783,  although  an  aged  woman,  she 
moved  with  her  husband  and  family  to  Ohio,  where 
she  soon  after  died,  leaving  a  daughter  who  married  a 
Moody,  a  far  away  cousin,  and  moved  first  into  Indi- 
ana and  finally  into  Illinois,  where  she  and  her  hus- 
band died  leaving  a  son,  J.  G.  Moody,  who  inherited 
the  enterprising  spirit  of  his  predecessors,  and,  marry- 
ing a  female  relative  who  inherited  the  family  name 
and  spirit,  before  he  was  of  age  resumed  the  family 
march  towards  the  Pacific. 

The  first  place  where  the  family  lialted  was  in  the 
territory  of  Iowa.  Here  they  lived  for  ten  years  til- 
ling a  noble  farm  on  the  Des  Moines  river.  Then  they 
sold  their  house  and  land,  and  pushed  one  hundred 
miles  further  westward,  ITere  again  new  toils  and 
triumphs  awaited  them  \\  ith  the  handsome  sum  de- 
rived from  the  sale  of  their  lu  m  on  the  Des  Moines,  they 
were  enabled  to  purchase  an  extensive  domain  of  both 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


121   121 


lit 


m 


ti 


2.2 


2.0 


1.4 


N 


1.6 


fliotographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WIST  MAIN  STKIfT 

WEBSTIR.N.Y.  M5S0 

(716)  873-4503 


1 


fc 


mSSfi 


mSSSSSSml^Si 


mmmmmmm 


172       MOVING  WEST-PERILS  OF  THE  JOURNEY. 

prairie  and  woodland.  In  ten  years  they  had  a  model 
farm,  and  the  story  of  their  successful  labors  attracted 
other  settlers  to  their  neighborhood.  A  large  price 
tempted  them  and  again  they  disposed  of  their  farm. 

We  have  traced  genealogically  the  successive  stages 
in  the  history  of  this  pioneer  family  for  the  purpose 
of  noting,  not  merely  the>cheerfulness  with  which  so 
many  generations  of  daughters  accompanied  their 
husbands  on  their  westward  march,  but  the  energy 
which  they  displayed  in  making  so  many  homes  in  the 
'waste  places,  and  preparing  the  way  for  the  less  bold 
and  adventurous  class  of  settlers  who  follow  where 
the  pioneer  leads. 

The  family,  after  disposing  of  their  second  Iowa 
farm,  immediately  took  up  their  line  of  march  for  Ne- 
braska, where  they  bought  and  cultivated  a  large  tract 
of  land  on  one  of  the  tributaries  of  the  Platte.  In 
due  time  the  current  of  emigration  struck  them.  A 
favorable  offer  for  their  house  and  cattle  ranche  was 
speedily  embraced,  and  again  they  took  up  their  line 
of  march  which  extended  this  time  into  the  heart  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains,  in  Colorado,  of  which  State 
they  were  among  the  earliest  settlers. 

Here  Mr.  Moody  died;  but  his  widow  with  her 
large  family  successfully  maintained  her  cattle  and 
sheep  ranche  till  a  rich  gold  mine  was  discovered  upon 
her  land.  A  sale  was  soon  effected  of  both  the  mine 
and  the  ranche.  In  two  weeks  after  the  whole  family, 
mother,  sons,  and  daughters  were  en  route  to  Califor- 
nia, where  their  long  wanderings  terminated.  There 
they  are  now  living  and  enjoying  the  rich  fruits  of 
their  energy  and  enterprise,  proving  for  once  the  fal- 


■I 


.L 


«iS«i*Mii*« 


r 


■SWPf^-^^P^^I^^^^i^^W 


1 1 


lk> 


1^ 


J..-. 


■*■"."■<  .'^■gy^yjff"'^' 


"T"*-"""*"' '  '    *WPiu"«   ■■■■<»■  njni-.JH»n 


EOMESTEADLIFE-BACKSWOOD  AND  PRAIRIE.     J 73 

sity  of  the  proverb  that  "  a  rolling  stone  gathers  no 
moss." 

The  women  of  this  family  are  types  of  a  class — sol- 
diers, scouts,  laborers,  nurses  in  the  "  Grarid  Army," 
whose  mission  it  is  to  reclaim  the  waste  places  and 
conquer  uncivilized  man. 

If  they  fight,  it  is  only  for  peace  and  safety.  If 
they  destroy,  it  is  only  to  rebuild  nobler  structures  in 
the  interest  of  civilization.  If  they  toil  and  bleed 
and  suffer,  it  is  only  that  they  may  rest  on  their  arms, 
at  last,  surrounded  by  honorable  and  useful  trophies, 
and  look  forward  to  ages  of  home-calm  which  have 
been  secured  for  their  posterity. 


i 


■♦•»■ 


OHAPTEE  YIII. 


HOMESTEAD-LIFE  IN  THE  BACKWOODS  AND  ON  THE  PBAIRIE. 


4 


THE  first  stage  in  pioneer-life  is  nomadic :  a  half- 
score  of  men,  women,  and  children  faring  on  day 
after  day,  living  in  the  open  air,  encamping  at  night 
beside  a  spring  or  brook,  under  the  canopy  of  the  forest, 
it  is  only  when  they  reach  their  place  of  destination, 
that  the  germ  of  a  community  fixes  itself  to  the  soil, 
and  rises  obedient  to  those  laws  of  social  and  civil  or- 
der which  distinguish  the  European  colonist  from  the 
Asiatic  nomad. 

The  experiences  of  camp  life  form  the  initial  steps 
to  the  thorough  backwoods  education  which  a  woman 


.^ 


274     BOMESTEAD-LIFE— BACKWOODS  AND  PRAIRIE. 

must  at  length  acquire,  to  fit  her  for  the  duties  and 
trials  incident  to  all  remote  settlements.  Riding, 
driving,  or  tramping  on,  now  through  stately  groves, 
now  over  prairies  which  lose  themselves  in  the  hori- 
zon, now  fording  shallow  streams,  or  poling  themselves 
on  rafts  across  rivers,  skirting  morasses  or  wallowing 
through  them,  and  climbing  mountains,  as  they  breathe 
the  fresh  woodland  air  and  catch  glimpses  of  a  thou- 
sand novel  scenes  and  encounter  the  dangers  or  en- 
dure the  hardships  of  this  first  stage  in  their  pilgrim- 
age, they  learn  those  first  hard  lessons  which  stand 
them  in  such  good  stead  when  they  have  settled  in 
their  permanent  abodes  in  the  heart  of  the  wilderness 
which  it  is  the  work  of  tl^e  pioneer  to  subdue. 

To  the  casual  observer  there  is  an  air  of  romance 
and  wild  enjoyment  in  this  journey  through  that 
magnificent  land.  Many  things  there  doubtless  are  t& 
give  zest  and  enjoyment  to  the  long  march  of  the  pi- 
oneer and  his  family.  The  country  through  which 
they  pass  deserves  the  title  of  "the  garden  of  God." 
The  trees  of  the  forest  are  like  stately  columns  in 
some  verdurous  temple ;  the  sun  shines  down  from  an 
Italian  sky  upon  lakes  set  like  jewels  flashing  jn  the 
beams  of  light,  the  sward  is  filled  with  exaggerated 
velvet,  through  whose  green  the  purple  and  scarlet 
gleams  of  fruit  and  flowers  appear,  and  everything 
speaks  to  the  eye  of  the  splendor,  richness,  and  joy  of 
wild  nature.  Traits  of  man  in  this  scene  are  favorite 
themes  for  the  painter's  art.  The  fire  burning  under 
the  spreading  oak  or  chestnut,  the  horses,  or  oxen,  or 
mules  picketed  in  the  vistas,  Indian  wigwams  and 
squaws  witl/children  watching  curiously  the  pioneer 
household  sitting  by  their  fire  and  eating  their  even- 


VWSS' 


BUILDING  THE  CABIN. 


175 


ing  meal ;  this  is  the  picture  framed  by  the  imagina- 
tion of  a  poet  or  artist ;  but  this  is  but  a  superficial 
sketch, — a  mere  glimpse  of  one  of  them  any  thousand 
phases  of  the  long  and  weary  journey.  The  reality 
is  quite  another  thing. 

The  arrival  of  the  household  at  their  chosen  seat 
marks  the  second  stage  in  backwoods-life,  a  stage  which 
calls  for  all  the  powers  of  mind  and  body,  tasks  the 
hands,  exercises  the  ingenuity,  summons  vigilance, 
and  awakens  every  latent  energy.  Woman  steps  at 
once  into  a  new  sphere  of  action,  and  hand  in  hand, 
shoulder  to  shoulder,  with  her  stronger  but  not  more 
resolute  companion,  enters  on  that  career  which  looks 
to  the  formation  of  communities  and  states.  It  is  the 
household  which  constitutes  the  primal  atom,  the  ag- 
gregation whereof  makes  the  vilhige,  town,  or  city ; 
the  state  itself  rests  upon  the  household  finally,  and 
the  household  is  what  the  faithful  mother  makes  it. 

The  toilsome  march  at  length  ended,  we  see  the 
great  wagon,  with  its  load  of  household  utensils  and 
farming  implements,  bedsteads  walling  up  the  sides,  a 
wash-tub  turned  up  to  serve  as  a  seat  for  the  driver, 
a  broom  and  hoe-handle  sticking  out  behind  with  the 
handles  of  a  plough,  pots  and  kettles  dangling  below, 
bundles  of  beds  and  bedding  enthroning  children  of 
all  the  smaller  sizes,  stopping  at  last  "  for  good,"  and 
the  whole  cortege  of  men,  women,  and  boys,  cattle, 
horses,  and  hogs,  resting  after  their  mighty  tramp. 

Shelter  and  food  are  the  first  wants  of  the  settler ; 
the  log-cabin  rises  to  supply  the  one ;  the  axe,  the 
plough,  the  8'->ade,  the  hoe,  prepare  the  other. 

The  womci*  not  seldom  joined  in  the  ^wrk  of  felling 


- 


! 


■ 


176 


EOMESTEAD-LIFE— BACKWOODS  AND  PRAIRIE. 


trees  and  trimming  logs  to  be  used  in  erecting  the 
cabins. 

Those  who  have  never  witnessed  the  erection  of 
log-cabins,  would  be  surprised  to  behold  the  simplicity 
of  their  mechanism,  and  the  rapidity  with  which  they 
are  put  together.  The  axe  and  the  auger  are  often 
the  only  tools  used  in  their  construction,  but  usually 
the  drawing-knife,  the  broad-axe,  and  the  crosscut-saw 
are  added. 

The  architecture  of  the  body  oi  the  hou^e  is  suffi- 
ciently obvious,  but  it  is  curious  to  notice  the  ingenuity 
with  which  the  wooden  fireplace  and  chimney  are  pro- 
tected  from  the  action  of  the  fire  by  a  lining  of  clay,  to 
see  a  smooth  floor  formed  from  the  plain  surface  of 
hewed  logs,  and  a  door  nlade  of  boards  split  from  the 
log,  hastily  smoothed  with  the  drawing-knife,  united 
firmly  together  with  wooden  pins,  hung  upon  wooden 
hinges,  and  fastened  with  a  wooden  latch.  Not  a  nail 
nor  any  particle  of  metal  enters  into  the  composition 
of  the  building — all  is  wood  from  top  to  bottom,  all  is 
done  by  the  woodsman  without  the  aid  of  any  me- 
chanic. These  primitive  dwellings  are  by  no  means 
so  wretched  as  their  name  and  rude  workmanship 
would  seem  to  imply.  They  still  frequently  constitute 
the  dwelling  of  the  farmers  in  new  settlements ;  they 
are  often  roomy,  tight,  and  comfortable.  If  one  cabin 
is  not  sufficient,  another  and  another  is  added,  until 
the  whole  family  is  accommodated,  and  thus  the 
homestead  of  a  respectable  farmer  often  resembles  a 
little  village.  The  dexterity  of  the  backwoodsman 
in  the  use  of  the  axe  is  also  remarkable,  yet  it  cease? 
to  be  so  regarded  when  we  reflect  on  the  variety  of 
uses  to  which  this  implement  is  applied,  and  that  in 


MRS.  GRAVES  IN  THE  NIGnT-WATCH. 


177 


fact  it  enters  into  almost  all  the  occupations  of  the 
pioneer,  in  clearing  land,  building  houses,  making 
fences,  providing  fuel ;  the  axe  is  used  in  tilling  his 
fields  ;  the  farmer  is  continually  obliged  to  cut  away 
the  trees  that  have  fallen  in  his  enclosure,  and  the 
roots  that  impede  his  plough ;  the  path  of  the  surveyor 
is  cleared  by^the  axe,  and  his  lines  and  comers  marked 
by  this  instrument ;  roads  are  opened  and  bridges 
made  by  the  axe,  the  first  court  houses  and  jails  are 
fashoned  of  logs  with  the  same  tool.  In  labor  or 
hunting,  in  traveling  by  land  or  water,  the  axe  is 
ever  the  companion  of  the  backwoodsman. 

Most  of  these  cabins  were  fortresses  in  themselves, 
and  were  capable  of  being  defended  by  a  family  for 
several  days.  The  thickness  of  the  walls  and  numer- 
ous loop-poles  were  sometimes  supplemented  by  a  clay 
covering  upon  the  roof,  so  as  to  resist  the  fiery  arrows 
of  the  savages.  Sometimes  places  of  concealment 
were  provided  for  the  women  and  children  beneath 
the  floor,  with  a  closely  fitting  trap  door  leading  to  it. 
Such  a  place  of  refuge  was  provided  by  Mrs.  Graves, 
a  widow  who  lost  her  husband  in  Braddock's  retreat. 
In  a  large  pit  beneath  the  floor  of  the  cabin  every 
night  she  laid  her  children  to  sleep  upon  a  bed  of 
straw,  and  there,  replacing  one  of  the  floor  logs,  she 
passed  the  w;eary  hours  in  darkness,  seated  by  the 
window  which  commanded  a  view  of  the  clearing 
through  which  the  Indians  would  have  to  approach. 
When  her  youngest  child  required  nursing  she  would 
lift  the  floor-log  and  sit  on  the  edge  of  the  opening 
until  it  was  lulled  to  sleep,  and  then  deposit  the  nurs- 
ling once  more  in  its  secret  bed. 

Once,  while  sitting  without  a  light,  knitting,  before 
12 


*'"''*ft|b"»imtz."'"  '•^V'J''*^  ^ 


I    ( 


178     HOMESTEAD-LIFE— BACKWOODS  AND  PRAIRIE. 

the  -window,  she  saw  three  Indians  approaching 
stealthily.  Retreating  to  the  hiding  place  beneath  the 
floor,  she  heard  them  enter  the  cabin,  and,  having 
struck  a  light,  proceed  to  help  themselves  to  such 
eatables  as  they  found  in  the  pantry.  After  remain- 
ing for  an  hour  in  the  house,  and  appropriating  such 
articles  as  Indians  most  value,  viz.,  knives,  axes,  etc., 
they  took  their  departure. 

More  elaborate  fortresses  were  often  necessary,  and, 
for  purposes  of  mutual  defence  in  a  country  which 
swarmed  with  Indians,  the  settlers  banded  together 
and  erected  stations,  forts,  and  block-houses. 
,*A  station  may  be  described  as  a  series  of  cabins 
built  on  the  sides  of  a  parallelogram  and  united  with 
palisades,  so  as  to  present  on  the  outside  a  continuous 
wall  with  only  one  or  two  doors,  the  cabin  doors  open- 
ing on  the  inside  into  a  common  square. 

A  fort  was  a  stockade  enclosure  embracing  cabins, 
etc.,  for  the  accommodation  of  several  familias.  One 
side  was  formed  by  a  range  of  cabins  separated  by 
divisions  or  partitions  of  logs ;  the  walls  on  the  out- 
side were  ten  or  twelve  feet  high,  with  roofs  sloping 
inward.  Some  of  these  cabins  were  provided  with 
puncheon-floors,  i.  e.,  floors  made  of  logs  split  in  half 
and  smoothed,  but  most  of  the  floors  were  earthen. 
At  the  angles  of  these  forts  were  built  the  block- 
houses, which  projected  about  two  feet  beyond  the 
outer  walls  of  the  cabins  and  stockade ;  these  upper 
stories  were  about  eighteen  feet,  or  two  inches  every 
way  larger  than  the  under  one,  leaving  an  opening  at 
the  commencement  of  the  second  story,  to  prevent  the 
enemy  from  making  a  lodgment  under  the  walls. 

These  block-houses  were  devised  in  the  early  days 


*  DeHass. 


^t 


THE  HOME-FORTRESS. 


179 


of  the  first  settlemients  made  in  our  cottntry,  and 
furnished  rallying  points  for  the  settlers  when  attacked 
by  the  Indians.  On  the  Western  frontier  they  were 
enlarged  and  improved  to  meet  the  military  exigencies 
arising  in  a  country  which  swarmed  with  savages. 
*In  some  forts,  instead  of  block-houses,  the  angles 
were  furnished  with  bastions;  a  large  folding  gate, 
made  of  thick  slabs  nearest  the  spring,  closed  the 
forts;  the  stockade,  bastion,  cabin,  and  block-house 
walls  were  furnished  with  port-holes  at  proper  heights 
and  distances.  The  whole  of  the  outside  was  made 
completely  bullet-proof;  the  families  belonging  to 
these  forts  were  so  attached  to  their  own  cabins  on 
their  farms  that  they  seldom  moved  into  the  forts  in 
the  spring  until  compelled  by  some  alarm,  i.  e.,  when 
it  was  announced  by  some  murder  that  Indians  were 
in  the  settlement. 

We  have  described  thus  in  detail  the  fortified  posts 
established  along  the  frontier  for  the  purpose  of  show- 
ing that  the  life  of  the  pioneer  woman,  from  the 
earliest  times,  was,  and  now  is,  to  a  large  extent,  a  mil- 
itary one.  She  was  forced  to  learn  a  soldier's  habits 
and  a  soldier's  virtues.  Eternal  vigilance  was  the  price 
of  safety,  and  during  the  absence  of  the  male  mem- 
bers of  the  household,  which  were  frequent  and  some- 
times protracted,  the  women  were  on  guard-duty,  and 
acted  as  the  gl&ntinels  of  their  home  fortresses. 
Watchful  against  stratagem  as  against  violent  attack, 
they  passed  many  a  night  all  alone  in  their,  isolated 
cabins,  averting  danger  with  all  a  woman's  fertility  of 
resource,  and  meeting  it  with  all  the  courage  of  a  man. 

On  one  occasion  a  party  of  Indians  approached  a 
solitary  log-house  with  the  intention  of  murdering  the 

♦  Doddridge's  Notes. 


SE= 


1 


|i 


IgO     HOMESTEAD-LIFE-BACKWOODS  AND  PRAIRIE. 

inmates.  With  their  usual  caution,  one  of  their  number 
was  sent  forward  to  reconnoiter,  who,  discovering  the 
only  persons  within  to  be  a  woman,  two  or  three 
children,  and  a  negro  man,  rushed  in  by  himself  and 
seized  the  negro,  ^he  woman  caught  up  the  axe  and 
with  a  single  blow  laid  the  savage  warrior  dead  at  her 
feet,  while  the  children  closed  the  door,  and,  with 
ready  sagacity,  employed  themselves  fastening  it. 
The  rest  of  the  Indians  came  up  and  attempted  to 
force  an  entrance,  but  the  negro  and  the  children  kept 
the  door  closed,  and  the  intrepid  mother,  having  no 
effective  weapon,  picked  up  a  gun-barrel  which  had 
neither  stock  nor  lock  and  pointed  it  at  the  savage* 
through  the  apertures  between  the  logs.  The  Indians 
deceived  by  the  appearance  of  a  gun,  and  daunted  bj 
the  death  of  their  companion,  retired. 

The  station,  the  fort,  and  the  block-house  were  the 
only  refuge  of  the  isolated  settlers  when  the  Indiana 
became  bolder  in  their  attacks. 

When  the  report  of  the  fou^-pounder,  or  the  ringing 
of  the  fort  bell,  or  a  volley  of  musketry  sounded  the 
alarm,  the  women  and  children  hurried  to  the  fortifi- 
cation. Sometimes,  while  threading  the  mazes  of  the 
forest,  the  hapless  mother  and  her  children  would  fall 
into  an  ambush.  Springing  from  their  cover,  the  prowl- 
ing savages  would  ply  their  tomahawks  and  scalping 
knives  amid  the  shrieks  of  their  helpless  v'ctims,  or 
bear  them  away  into  a  captivity  more  cruel  than 
death.  . 

One  summer's  afternoon,  while  Mrs.  Folsom,  with 
her  babe  in  her  arms,  was  hasting  to  Fort  Stan  wig  in 
the  Black  River  Country,  New  York,  after  hearing  the 
alarm,  she  caught  sight  of  a  huge  Indian  lying  behind 


RUNNING  FOR  BER  LIFE. 


181 


a  log,  with  his  rifle  leveled  apparently  directly  at  her. 
She  quickly  sprang  to  one  side  and  ran  through  the 
woods  in  a  course  at  right  angles  with  the  point  of 
danger,  expecting  every  moment  to  be  pierced  with  a 
rifle  ball.  Casting  a  horror-stricken  glance  over  her 
shoulder  as  she  ran,  she  saw  her  husband  hastening  on 
after  her,  but  directly  under  the  Indian's  rifle.  Shriek- 
ing loudly,  she  pointed  to  the  savage  just  in  time  to 
warn  her  husband,  who  stepped  behind  a  tree  as  the 
report  of  the  rifle  rang  through  the  forest.  In  an  in- 
stant he  drew  a  bead  upon  the  lurking  foe,  who  fell 
with  a  bullet  through  his  brain. 

Before  the  family  could  reach  the  fort  a  7.?(-ion  s^l 
savages,  ronml  by  the  report  of  the  rifles,  were  on 
their  +rail.  The  mother  and  child  fled  swiftly  tc^vards 
their  place  of  refuge,  which  they  succeeded'in  reaching 
without  harm;  but  the  brave  father,  while  trying  to 
keep  the  savages  at  bay,  was  shot  and  scalped  almost 
under  the  walls  of  the  fort. 

Ann  Bush,  another  of  these  border  heroines,  vs^as 
still  more  unfortunate  than  Mrs.  Folsom.  While  she 
and  her  husband  were  fleeing  for  safety  to  one  of  the 
stations  on  the  Virginia  borders,  they  were  overtaken 
and  captured  by  the  Indians,  who  shot  and  scalped 
her  husband ;  and  although  she  soon  escaped  from 
captivity,  yet  in  less  than  twelve  months  after,  while 
again  attempting  to  find  refuge  in  the  same  station, 
she  was  captured  a  second  time,  with  an  infant  in  her 
arms.  After  traveling  a  few  hours  the  savages  bent 
down  a  young  hickory,  sharpened  it,  seized  the  child, 
scalped  it  and  spitted  it  upon  the  tree ;  they  then 
scalped  and  tomahawked  the  mother  and  left  her  for 
dead.    She  lay  insensible  for  many  hours  j  but  it  was 


tmrn 

m 


182     BOMESTEAD-LIFE— BACKWOODS  AND  PRAIRIE. 

the  will  of  Providence  that  she  should  survive  the 
shock.  When  she  recovered  her  senses  she  bandaged 
her  head  with  her  apron,  and,  wonderful  to  tell,  in  two 
days  staggered  back  to  the  settlement  with  the  dead 
body  of  her  infant. 

The  transitions  of  frontier  life  were  often  startling 
and  sad.  From  a  wedding  to  a  funeral,  from  a  merry- 
making to  a  massacre,  were  frequent  vicissitudes. 
One  of  these  shiftings  of  the  scene  is  described  by  an 
actor  and  eye-witness  as  follows : 

"  Father  had  gone  away  the  day  before  and  mother 
and  the  children  were  alone.  About  nine  o'clock  at 
night  we  saw  two  Indians  approaching.  Mother  im- 
mediately threw  a  bucket  of  water  on  the  fire  to 
prevent  them  from  seeing  us,  made  us  lie  on  the  floor,  f 
bolted  and* barred  the  door,  and  posted  herself  there 
with  an  axe  and  rifle.  We  never  knew  why  they 
desisted  from  an  attack  or  how  father  escaped.  In 
two  or  iliree  days  all  of  us  set  out  for  Clinch  Moun- 
tain to  the  wedding  of  Happy  Kincaid,  a  clever  young 
fellow  from  Holston,  and  Sally  McClure,  a  fine  girl  of 
seventeen,  modest  and  pretty,  yet  fearless.  We  knew 
the  Shawnees  were  about ;  that  our  fort  and  house- 
hold effects  must  be  left  unguarded  and  might  be 
destroyed ;  that  we  incurred  the  risk  of  a  fight  or  an 
ambuscade,  a  capture,  and  even  death,  on  the  route; 
but  in  those  days,  and  in  that  wild  country,  folks  did 
not  calculate  consequences  closely,  and  the  temptation 
to  a  frolic,  a  wedding,  a  feast,  and  a  dance  till  daylight 
and  often  for  several  days  together,  was  not  to  be 
resisted.  Off  we  went.  Instead  of  the  bridal  party, 
the  well  spread  table,  the  ringing  laughter,  and  the 
sounding  feet  of  buxom  dancers,  we  found  a  pile  of 


/ 


1 


FROM  A  WEDDING  TO  A  FUNERAL. 


183 


ashes  and  six  or  seven  ghastly  corpses  tomahawked 
and  scalped."  Mrs.  McClure,  her  infant,  and  three 
other  children,  including  Sally,  the  intended  bride,  had 
been  carried  off  by  the  savages.  They  soon  tore  the 
poor  infant  from  the  mother's  arms  and  killed  and 
scalped  it,  that  she  might  travel  faster.  While  they 
were  scalping  this  child,  Peggy  McClure,  a  girl  twelve 
years  old,  perceived  a  sink-hole  immediately  at  her 
feet  and  dropped  silently  into  it.  It  communicated 
with  a  ravine,  down  which  she  ran  and  brought  the 
news  to  the  settlement.  The  same  night  Sally,  who 
had  been  tied  and  forced  to  lie  down  between  two 
warriors,  contrived  to  loosen  her  thongs  and  make  her 
escape.  She  struck  for  the  canebrake,  then  for  the 
•  river,  and  to  conceal  her  trail  resolved  to  descend  it. 
It  was  deep  wading,  and  the  current  was  so  rapid  she 
had  to  fill  her  petticoat  with  gravel  to  steady  herself. 
She  soon,  however,  recovered  confidence,  returned  to 
shore,  and  finally  reached  the  still  smoking  homestead 
about  dark  next  evening.  A  few  neighbors  well  armed 
had  just  buried  the  dead ;  the  last  prayer  had  been 
said,  when  the  orphan  girl  stood  before  them. 

Yielding  to  the  entreaties  of  her  lover,  who  was 
present,  and  to  the  advice  and  persuasion  of  her 
friends,  the  weeping  girl  gave  her  consent  to  an 
immediate  marriage ;  and  beside  the  grave  of  the 
household  and  near  the  ruins  of  the  cabin  they  were 
accordingly  mode  one. 

These  perilous  adventures  were  episodes,  we  should 
remember,  in  a  life  of  extraordinary  labor  and  hard- 
ship. Tlie  luxuries  and  comforts  of  older  communities 
were  unknown  to  the  settlers  on  the  border-line,  either 
in  New  England  two  centuries  ago  or  in  the  West 


«F 


I 


I  '      I 


lg4     HOMESTEAD-LIFE— BACKWOODS  AND  PRAIRIE. 

within  the  present  generation.  Plain  in  every  way 
was  the  life  of  the  borderer — plain  in  dress,  in  manners, 
in  equipage,  in  houses.  The  cabins  were  furnished  in 
the  most  primitive  style.  Blocks  or  stumps  of  trees 
served  for  chairs  and  tables.  Bedsteads  were  made 
by  laying  rows  of  saplings  across  two  logs,  forming  a 
spring-bed  for  the  women  and  children,  while  the  men 
lay  on  the  floor  with  their  feet  to  the  fire  and  a  log 
under  their  heads  for  a  pillow. 

The  furniture  of  the  cabin  in  the  West,  for  several 
years  after  the  settlement  of  the  country,  consisted  of 
a  few  pewter  dishes,  plates,  and  spoons,  but  mostly 
of  wooden  bowls,  trenchers,  and  noggins ;  if  these  last 
were  scarce,  gourds  and  hard-shell  squashes  made  up 
the  deficiency ;  the  iron  pots,  knivies,  and  forks  were 
brought  from  the  East,  with  the  salt  and  iron  on  pack- 
horses.  The  articles  of  furniture  corresponded  very 
well  with  the  articles  of  diet.  "Hog  and  hominy" 
was  a  dish  of  proverbial  celebrity;  Johnny  cake  or 
pone  was  at  the  outset  of  the  settlement  the  only  form 
of  bread  in  use  for  breakfast  or  dinner;  at  supper, 
milk  and  mush  was  the  standard  dish;  when  milk 
was  scarce  the  hominy  supplied  its  place,  and  mush 
was  frequently  eaten  with  sweetened  water,  molasses, 
bear's  oil,  or  the  gravy  of  fried  meat. 

In  the  display  of  furniture,  delft,  china,  or  silver 
were  unknown ;  the  introduction  of  delft-wnre  was 
considered  by  many  of  the  backwoods  people  as  a 
wasteful  innovation ;  it  was  too  easily  broken,  ond  the 
plates  dulled  their  scalping  and  clasp  knives. 

The  costume  of  the  women  of  the  frontier  was 
suited  to  the  plainness  o**  the  habitations  where  they 
lived  and  the  furniture  they  used.     Homespun,  linsey- 


i 


LIFE  IN  THE  BACKWOODS. 


185 


woolsey  and  buckskin  were  the  primitive  materials 
out  of  which  their  everyday  dresses  were  made,  and 
only  on  occasions  of  social  festivity  were  they  seen  in 
braver  robes.  Rings,  broaches,  buckles,  and  ruffles 
were  heir-looms  from  parents  or  grand-parents. 

But  this  plainness  of  living  and  attire  was  a  prepa- 
ration for,  and  almost  necessary  antecedent  of  hardi- 
hood, endurance,  courage,  patience,  qualities  which 
made  themselves  manifest  in  the  heroic  acting  of  these 
women  of  the  border.  With  such  a  state  of  society 
we  can  readily  associate  assiduous  labor,  a  battling 
with  danger  in  its  myriad  shapes,  a  subjugation  of  the 
hostile  forces  of  nature,  and  a  developing  of  a  strange 
and  peculiar  civilization. 

Here  we  see  woman  in  her  true  glory,  not  a  doll  to 
carry  silks  and  jewels,  not  a  puppet  to  be  dandled  by 
fops,  an  idol  of  profane  adoration  reverenced  to-day, 
discarded  to  morrow,  admired  but  not  respected,  de- 
aired  but  not  esteemed,  ruling  by  passion  not  affection, 
imparting  her  weakness  not  her  constancy,  to  the  sex 
cihe  should  exalt — the  source  and  marrow  of  vanity. 
We  see  her  as  a  wife  partaking  of  the  cares  and  guid- 
ing the  labors  of  her  husband  and  by  domestic  dili- 
gence spreading  cheerfulness  all  around  for  his  sake ; 
sharing  the  decent  refinements  of  civilization  without 
being  injured  by  them ;  placing  all  her  joy,  all  her 
happiness  in  the  merited  approbation  of  the  man  she 
loves ;  as  a  mother,  we  find  her  affectionate,  the  ar- 
dent instructress  of  the  children  she  has  reared  from 
infancy  and  trained  up  to  thought  and  to  the  practice 
of  virtue,  to  meditation  and  benevolence  and  to  be- 
come strong  and  useful  men  and  women. 

"  Could   there   bo  happiness  or  comfort  in   such 


185     BOMESTEAD-LIFE— BACKWOODS  AND  PRAIRIE. 


dwellings  and  such  a  state  of  society.  To  those  whf» 
are  accustomed  to  modern  refinement  the  truth  ap- 
pears like  fable.  The  lowly  occupants  of  log  cabins  were 
often  among  the  most  happy  of  mankind.  Exercise 
and  excitement  gave  them  health,  they  were  practi- 
cally equal  j  common  danger  made  them  mutually  de- 
pendent ;  brilliant  hopes  of  future  wealth  and  distinc- 
tion led  them  on,  and  as  there  was  ample  room  for  all, 
and  as  each  new  comer  increased  individual  and  gen- 
eral security,  there  was  little  room  for  that  envy,  jeal- 
ousy, and  hatred  which  constitutes  a  large  portion  of 
human  misery  in  older  societies.  Never  were  the 
story,  the  joke,  the  song,  and  the  laugh  better  enjoyed 
than  upon  the  hewed  blocks  or  puncheon-stools  around 
the  roaring  log-fire  of  the  early  western  settler.  The 
lyre  of  Apollo  was  not  hailed  with  more  delight  in 
primitivp  Greece  than  the  advent  of  the  first  fiddler 
among  the  dwellers  of  the  wilderness,  and  the  polished 
daughters  of  the  East  never  enjoyed  themselves  half 
so  well  moving  to  the  music  of  a  full  band  upon  tb^ 
elastic  floor  of  their  ornamented  ball-room,  as  did  th^  ^ 
daughters  of  the  western  emigrants  keeping  time  to 
the  self-taught  fiddler  on  the  bare  earth  or  puncheon 
floor  of  the  primitive  log  cabin :  the  smile  of  the  pol- 
ished beauty  is  the  wave  of  the  lake  where  the  breeze 
plays  gently  over  it,  and  her  movement  the  gentle 
stream  which  drains  it ;  but  the  laugh  of  the  log  cabin 
is  the  gush  of  nature's  fountain  and  its  movement  the 
leaping  water. ' 

Amid  the  multifarious  toils  of  pioneer-life,  woman 
has  often  proved  that  she  is  the  last  to  forget  th^ 
stranger  that  is  v/ithin  the  gates.  She  welcomes  the 
coming  as  she  speeds  the  parting  guest. 


% 


LOG-CABIN  HOSPITALITY. 


187 


Let  us  suppose  travelers  caught  in  a  rain  storm, 
who  reach  at  last  one  of  these  western  homes.  There 
is  a  roof,  a  stick  chimney,  drenched  cattle  crowding  in 
beneath  a  strawy  barrack,  and  some  forlorn  fowls  hud- 
dling under  a  cart.  The  log-house  is  a  small  one, 
though  its  neat  corn-crib  and  chicken-coop  of  slender 
poles  bespeaks  a  careful  farmer.  No  gate  is  seen,  but 
great  bars  which  are  let  down  or  climbed  over,  and 
the  cabin  has  only  a  back  door. 

Within,  everything  ministers  to  the  useful ;  nothing 
to  the  beautiful.  Flitches  of  bacon,  dried  beef,  and 
ham  depend  from  the  ceiling;  pots  and  kettles  are 
ranged  in  a  row  in  the  recess  on  one  side  the  fire- 
place ;  and  above  these  necessary  utensils  are  plates 
and  heavy  earthen  nappies.  The  axe  and  gun  stand 
together  in  one  corner. 

The  good  woman  of  the  house  is  thin  as  a  shadow, 
and  pinched  and  wrinkled  with  hard  labor.  Little 
boys  and  girls  are  playing  on  the  floor  like  kittens. 

A  free  and  hospitable  welcome  is  given  to  the  trav- 
elers; their  wet  garments  are  ranged  for  drying  on 
those  slender  poles  usually  seen  above  the  ample  fire- 
place of  a  log-cabin  in  the  West,  placed  there  for  the 
purpose  of  drying  sometimes  the  week's  wash  when 
the  weather  is  rainy,  sometimes  whole  rows  of  slender 
circlets  of  pumpkins  for  nex.'  spring's  pies,  or  festoons 
of  slioL.c  apples. 

The  good  woman,  after  busying  herself  in  those  lit- 
tle offices  which  evince  a  desire  to  make  guests 
welcome,  puts  an  old  cloak  on  her  head  and  flies  out 
to  place  tubs,  pails,  pans,  and  jars  under  the  pouring 
eaves,  intimating  that  as  soap  was  scarce,  she  "  must 
try  and  catch  rain  water  anyhow." 


' 


m 


188     HOMESTEAD-LIFE— DA  CK  WOODS  AND  PRAIRIE. 

The  "  Old  man "  has  the  shakes,  so  the  woman  has 
all  to  do;  throws  more  wood  on  the  fire  and  fans  it 
with  her  apron ;  cuts  rashers  of  bacon,  rims  out  to  the 
hen-coop  and  brings  in  new-laid  eggs ;  mixes  a  johnny-t 
cake  and  sets  it  in  a  pan  upon  the  embers. 

While  the  supper  is  cooking  the  rain  subsides  to  a 
sprinkle,  and  the  travelers  look  at  the  surroundings  of 
this  pioneer  household. 

The  cabin  stances  in  a  prairie,  skirted  by  a  forest. 
A  stream  gurgles  by.  The  prairie  is  broken  with 
patches  of  corn  and  potatoes,  which  are  just  emerging 
from  the  rich  black  mould.  Pig-pens,  a  barn,  and 
corn-houses,  a  half-dozen  sheep  in  an  enclosure,  cows 
and  calves  and  oxen  in  a  barn-yard,  a  garden  patch, 
and  hen-coops,  and  stumps  of  what  were  once  mighty 
trees,  tell  the  story  of  the  farmer's  labors;  and  the 
cabin,  with  all  its  appurtenances  and  surroundings, 
show  how  much  the  good  woman  has  contributed  to 
make  it  the  abode  of  rustic  plenty,  all  provided  by  the 
unaided  toil  of  this  pioneer  couple. 

They  had  come  from  the  East  ten  years  before,  and 
their  cabin  was  the  initial  point  from  which  grew  up  a 
numerous  settlement.  Other  cabins  sent  up  their 
smoke  in  the  prairie  around  them.  A  school-house 
and  church  had  been  built,  and  a  saw-mill  was  at  work 
on  the  sir-^am  near  by,  and  surveyors  for  a  railroad 
had  just  laid  out  a  route  for  the  iron  horse. 

Two  little  boys  come  in  now,  skipping  from  school, 
and  at  the  same  time  the  good  woman,  who  is  all 
patience  and  civility,  announces  supper.  Sage-tea, 
johnny-cake,  fried  eggs,  and  bacon,  seasoned  with  sun- 
dry invitations  of  the  hostess  to  partake  freely,  and 
then  the  travelers  are  in  a  mood  for  rest. 


^^mmmmmmmmmmm 


FRENCH  PlONEEBrWOMEN. 


189 


The  sleeping  arrangements  are  of  a  somewhat  per- 
pl'^xing  character.  These  are  one  large  bed  and  a 
trundle  bed ;  the  former  is  given  up  to  the  travelers, 
the  trundle  bed  suffices  for  the  little  ones ;  the  hostess 
prepares  a  cotton  sheet  partition  for  the  benefit  of 
those  who  choose  to  undress,  and  then  begins  to  pre- 
pare herself  for  the  rest  which  she  stands  sorely  in 
need  of.  She  and  her  good  man  repose  upon  the 
floor,  with  buffalo  robes  for  pillows,  and  with  their  feet 
to  the  fire. 

The  hospitality  of  the  frontier  woman  is  bounded, 
only  by  their  means  of  affording  it.  Come  when  you 
may,  they  welc6me  you ;  give  you  of  their  best  while 
you  remain,  and  regret  your  departure  with  simple 
and  unfeigned  sincerity.  If  you  are  sick,  all  that 
sympathy  and  care  can  devise  is  done  for  you,  and  all 
this  is  from  the  heart. 

Homestead-life,  and  woman's  influence  therein,  is 
modified  to  some  extent  by  the  different  races  that 
contributed  their  quotas  to  the  pioneer  army.  The 
early  French  settlements  in  our  western  States  furnish 
a  picture  somewhat  different  from  those  of  the  emi- 
grants of  English  blood :  a  patriarchal  state  of  society, 
self-satisfied  and  kindly,  with  bright  superficial  fea- 
tures, but  lacking  the  earnest  purpose  and  restless 
aggressive  energy  of  the  Anglo-American,  whose  very 
amusements  and  festivals  partook  of  a  useful  char- 
acter. 

Those  French  pioneer-women  made  thrifty  and 
industrious  housewives,  and  entered,  with  all  the 
gaiety  and  enthusiasm  of  their  race,  into  all  the 
merry-makings  and  social  enjoyments  peculic:  to 
those  neighborhoods.     On  festive  occasions,  the  bloom- 


•^"-"■""■« 


190     EOMESTEAD-LIFE— BACKWOODS  AND  PRAIRIE. 


ing  damsels  wound  round  their  foreheads  fancy-colored 
handkerchiefs,  streaming  with  gay  ribbons,  or  plumed 
with  flowers.  The  matrons  wore  the  short  jacket  or 
petticoat.  The  foot  was  left  uncovered  and  free,  but 
on  holidays  it  was  adorned  with  the  light  moccasin, 
brilliant  with  porcupine  quills,  shells,  beads,  and  lace. 

A  faithful  picture  of  life  in  these  French  settlements 
possesses  an  indescribable  charm,  such  as  that  conveyed 
by  the  perusal  of  Longfellow's  Acadian  Romance  of 
"  Evangeline,"  when  we  see  in  a  border  settlement  the 
French  maiden,  wife,  and  widow. 

Different  types,  too,  of  homestead-life  are  of  course 
to  be  looked  for  in  different  sections.  On  the  ocean's 
beach,  on  the  shores  of  the  inland  seas,  on  the  banka 
of  great  rivers,  in  the  heart  of  the  forest,  on  the 
rugged  hills  of  New  England,  on  southern  Savannas, 
on  western  prairies,  or  among  the  mountains  beyond, 
the  region,  the  scenery,  the  climate,  the  social  laws 
may  be  diverse,  yet  homestead-life  on  the  frontier^ 
widely  varying  as  it  does  in  its  form  and  out- 
ward surroundings,  is  in  its  spirit  everywhere  essen- 
tially the  same.  The  sky  that  bends  over  all,  and  the 
sun  that  sheds  its  light  for  all,  are  symbols  of  the  one- 
ness of  the  animating  principle  in  the  home  where 
woman  is  the  bright  and  potent  genius. 

We  have  spoken  of  the  western  form  of  homostcad- 
life  because  the  frontier-line  of  to-day  lies  in  the  Occi- 
dent. But  in  each  stage  of  the  movement  that  carried 
our  people  onward  in  their  destined  course  from 
ocean  to  ocean,  the  wife  and  the  mother  were  centers 
from  which  emanated  a  force  to  impel  forward,  and  to 
fix  firmly  in  the  chosen  abode  those  organisms  of 
society  which  forms  the  molecular  atoms  out  cf  which, 


■ 


rJffJBU^JPRWi 


mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm 


WOMAN'S  SACRIFICES. 


191 


. 


by  the  laws  of  our  being,  is  built  the  compact  structure 
of  civilization. 

In  approximating  towards  some  estimate  of  woman's 
peculiar  influence  in  those  lonely  and  far-off  western 
homes,  we  must  not  fail  to  take  into  account  the 
humanizing  and  refining  power  which  she  exerts  to 
soften  the  rugged  features  of  frontier-life.  Different 
classes  of  women  all  worked  in  their  way  towards  this 
end. 

"  The  young  married  people,  who  form  a  considera- 
ble part  of  the  pioneer  element  in  our  country,  are  sim- 
ple in  their  habits,  moderate  in  their  aspirations,  and 
hoard  a  little  old-fashioned  romance — unconsciously 
enough — in  the  secret  nooks  of  their  rustic  hearts. 
They  find  no  fault  with  their  bare  loggeries;  with  a 
shelter  and  a  handful  of  furniture,  they  have  enough." 
If  there  is  the  wherewithal  to  spread  a  warm  supper 
for  the  "  old  man  "  when  he  cOmes  in  from  work,  the 
young  wife  forgets  the  long,  solitary,  wordless  day 
and  asks  no  greater  happiness  than  preparing  it  by 
the  help  of  such  materials  and  utensils  as  would  be 
looked  at  with  utter  contempt  in  the  comfortable 
kitchens  of  the  East. 

They  have  youth,  hope,  health,  occupation,  and 
amusement,  and  when  you  have  added  "  meat,  clothes, 
and  fire,"  what  more  has  England's  queen  ?  " 

We  should,  however,  remember  that  there  is  another 
large  class  of  women  who,  for  various  reasons,  have 
left  comfortable  homes  in  older  communities,  and 
risked  their  happiness  and  all  that  they  have  in  enter- 
prises of  pioneer  life  in  the  far  West.  What  wonder 
that  they  should  sadly  miss  the  thousand  old  familiar 
means  and  appliances!    Some  utensil  or  implement 


nii  iiiiiMf  1  iwi"iiiiiiiiiiiitiiiitniri»--i« 


■IPiiPliliiiliIMP 


192     nOMESTEAD-LIFE-BACKWOODS  AND  PRAIRIE.] 

necessary  to  their  husbandry  is  wanting  or  has  been 
lost  or  broken,  and  cannot  be  replaced.  Some  com- 
fort or  luxury  to  which  she  has  been  used  from  child- 
hood is  lacking,  and  cannot  be  furnished.  The 
multifarious  materials  upon  which  household  art  can 
employ  itself  are  reduced  to  the  few  absolute  essentials. 
These  difficulties  are  felt  more  by  the  woman  than  the 
man.  To  quote  the  words  of  a  writer  who  was  her- 
self a  pioneer  housewife  in  the  West : 

"  The  husband  goes  to  his  work  with  the  same  axe 
or  hoe  which  fitted  his  hand  in  his  old  woods  and 
fields ;  he  tills  the  same  soil  or  perhaps  a  far  richer 
and  more  hopeful  one ;  he  gazes  on  the  same  book  of 
nature  which  he  has  read  from  his  infancy  and  sees 
only  a  fresher  and  more  glowing  page,  and  he  returns 
home  with  the  sun,  strong  in  heart  and  full  of  self- 
congratulation  on  the  favorable  change  in  his  lot 
Perhaps  he  finds  the  home  bird  drooping  and  discon» 
solate.  She  has  found  a  thousand  difficulties  which 
her  rougher  mate  can  scarcely  be  taught  to  feel  as 
evils.  She  has  been  looking  in  vain  for  any  of  the 
cherished  features  of  her  old  fireside.  What  cares  he 
if  the  time-honored  cupboard  is  meagerly  represented 
by  a  few  oak  boards  lying  on  pegs  called  shelves^ 
His  tea  equipage  shines  as  it  was  wont,  the  biscuits 
can  hardly  stay  on  the  brightly  glistening  plates. 
His  bread  never  was  better  baked.  What  does  he 
want  with  the  great  old-fashioned  rocking  chair? 
When  he  is  tired  he  goes  to  bed,  for  he  is  never  tired 
till  bed-time.  The  sacrifices  in  moving  West  have 
been  made  most  largely  by  women." 

It  is  this  very  dearth  of  so  many  things  that  once 
made  her  life  easy  and  comfortable  which  throws  her 


WOMAN'S  STRENGTH. 


193 


back  upon  her  own  resources.  Here  again  is  woman's 
strength.  Fertile  in  expedients,  apt  in  device,  an 
artisan  to  construct  and  an  artist  to  embellish,  she 
proceeds  to  supply  what  is  lacking  in  her  new  home. 
She  has  a  miraculous  faculty  for  creating  much  out  of 
little,  and  for  transforming  the  coarse  into  the  beauti- 
ful. Barrels  are  converted  into  easy  chairs  and  wash- 
stands;  spring  beds  are  manufactured  with  rows  of 
slender,  elastic  saplings;  a  box  covered  with  muslin 
stuffed  with  hay  serves  for  a  lounge.  By  the  aid  of 
considerable  personal  exertion,  while  she  adds  to  the 
list  of  useful  and  necessary  articles,  she  also  enlarges 
the  circle  of  luxuries.  An  hour  or  two  of  extra  work 
now  and  then  enables  her  to  hoard  enough  to  buy  a 
new  looking-glass,  and  to  make  from  time  to  time 
small  additions  to  the  showy  part  of  the  household. 

After  she  has  transformed  the  rude  cabin  into  a 
cozy  habitation,  she  turns  her  attention  to  the  out- 
side surroundings.  Woodbine  and  wild  cucumber  are 
trailed  over  the  doors  and  windows;  little  beds  of 
sweet-williams  and  marigolds  line  the  path  to  the 
clearing's  edge  or  across  the  prairie-sward  to  the  well ; 
and  an  apple  or  pear  tree  is  put  in  here  and  thei . 
In  all  these  works,  either  of  use  or  enjbellishment,  if 
not  done  by  her  own  hand  she  is  at  least  the  moving 
spirit.  Thus  over  the  rugged  and  homely  features  of 
her  lot  she  throws  something  of  the  magic  of  that 
ideal  of  which  the  poet  sings : 

"  Nymph  of  our  soul  and  brightener  of  our  being : 
SIic  makes  the  common  watci-s  musical — 
Binds  the  rude  night-winds  in  a  silver  thrall, 
Bids  Hybla's  thyme  and  Tempo's  violet  dwell 
Round  the  green  marge  of  her  moon-haunted  celL" 

13 


\\ 


I  i 


194     BOLiESTEAD-LIFE-BACKWOODS  AND  PRAIRIE. 

It  is  the  thousand  nameless  household  offices  per- 
formed by  woman  that  makes  the  home:  it  is  the 
home  -which  moulds  the  character  of  the  children  and 
makes  the  husband  what  he  is.  Who  can  deny  the 
vast  debt  of  gratitude  due  from  the  present  genera- 
tion of  Americans  to  these  offices  of  woman  in  refining 
and  ameliorating  the  rude  tone  of  frontier  life  ?  It 
may  well  be  said  that  the  pioneer  women  of  America 
have  made  the  wilderness  bud  and  blossom  like  the 
rose.  Under  their  hands  even  nature  itself,  no  longer 
a  wild,  wayward  mother,  turns  a  more  benign  face 
upon  her  children.  A  land  bright  with  flowers  and 
bursting  with  fruitage  testifies  to  the  labors  and  in- 
fluence of  those  who  embellish  the  homestead  and 
make  it  attractive  to  their  husbands  and  children. 

A  traveler  on  the  vast  prairies  of  Kansas  and 
Nebraska  will  often  see  cabins  remote  from  the  great 
thoroughfares  embowered  in  vines  and  shrubbery  and 
bright  with  beds  of  flowers.  Entering  he  will  discern 
the  rugged  features  of  frontier  life  softened  in  a 
hundred  ways  by  the  hand  of  woman.  The  steel  is 
just  as  hard  and  more  serviceable  after  it  is  polished, 
and  the  oak-wood  as  strong  and  durable  when  it  is 
trimmed  and  smoothed.  The  children  of  the  frontier 
are  as  hardy  and  as  manly  though  the  gentle  voice  of 
woman  schools  their  rugged  ways  and  her  kind  hand 
leads  them  through  the  paths  of  refinement  and  moulds 
them  in  the  school  of  hiunanity. 


4- 


A 


\ 


1' 


4- 


CHAPTER   IX. 


SOME  REMARKABLE  WOMEN. 


OF  all  the  tens  of  thousands  of  devoted  women 
who  have  accompanied  the  grand  army  of  pio- 
neers into  the  wilderness,  not  one  but  that  has  been 
either  a  soldier  to  fight,  or  a  laborer  to  toil,  or  a  min- 
istering angel  to  soothe  the  pains  and  relieve  the  sore 
wants  of  her  companions.  Not  seldom  has  she  acted 
worthily  in  all  these  several  capacities,  fighting,  toil- 
ing, and  ministering  by  turns.  If  a  diary  of  the  events 
of  their  pioneer-lives  had  been  kept  by  each  of  these 
brave  and  faithful  women,  what  a  record  of  toil  and 
warfare  and  suffering  it  would  present.  How  many 
different  types  of  female  .character  in  different  spheres 
of  action  it  would  show — the  self-sacrificing  mother, 
the  tender  and  devoted  wife,  the  benevolent  matron, 
the  heroine  who  blenched  not  in  battle !  Unnumbered 
thousands  have  passed  beautiful,  strenuous  and  brave 
lives  far  from  the  scenes  of  civilization,  and  gone  down 
to  their  graves  leaving  only  local,  feeble  voices,  if  any, 
to  celebrate  their  praises  and  to-day  we  know  not  the 
place  of  their  sepulcher.  Others  have  had  their 
memories  embalmed  by  the  pens  of  faithful  biograph- 
ers, and  a  few  also  have  left  diaries  containing  a  record 
of  the  wonderful  vicissitudes  of  their  lives. 

Woman's  experience  of  life  in  the  wilderness  is  never 
better  told  than  in  her  own  words.  More  impressible 
than  man,  to  passing  events ;  more  susceptible  to  pain 

(195) 


II 


I 


If 


196 


SOME  REMARKABLE  WOMEN. 


and  pleasure ;  enjoying  and  sorrowing  more  keenly 
than  her  sterner  and  rougher  mate,  she  possesses  often 
a  peculiarly  graphic  power  in  expressing  her  own 
thoughts  and  feelings,  and  also  in  delineating  the 
scenes  through  which  she  passes. 

A  woman's  diary  of  frontier-life,  therefore,  pos- 
sesses an  intrinsic  value  because  it  is  a  faithful  story, 
and  at  the  same  time  one  of  surpassing  interest,  in 
consequence  of  her  personal  and  active  participation 
in  the  toils,  sufferings,  and  dangers  incident  to  such  a 
life. 

Such  a  diary  is  that  of  Mrs.  Williamson  which  in 
the  quaint  style  of  the  olden  time  relates  her  thrilling' 
experience  in  the  wilds  of  Pennsylvania.  We  see  he' 
first  as  an  affectionate,  motherless  girl  accompanying 
her  father  to  the  frontier,  assisting  him  to  prepare  a 
home  for  his  old  age  in  the  depths  of  the  forest  and 
enduring  with  cheerful  resolution  the  manifold  hard- 
ships and  trials  of  pioneer-life,  and  finally  closing  her 
aged  parent's  eyes  in  death.  Then  we  see  her  as  a 
wife,  the  partner  of  her  husband's  cares  and  labors, 
and  as  a  mother,  the  faithful  guardian  of  her  sons ; 
and  again  as  a  widow,  her  husband  having  been  torn 
from  her  arms  and  butchered  by  a  band  of  ruthless 
savages.  After  her  sons  had  grown  to  be  sturdy  men 
and  had  left  her  to  make  homes  for  themselves,  she 
shows  herself  the  strong  and  self-reliant  matron  of 
fifty  still  keeping  her  outpost  on  the  border,  and  culti- 
vating her  clearing  by  the  assistance  of  two  negroes. 
At  last  after  a  life  of  toil  and  danger  she  is  attacked 
by  a  band  of  savages,  and  defends  her  home  so  bravely 
that  after  making  her  their  captive  they  spare  her  life 
and  in  admiration  of  her  courage  adopt  her  into  their 


-i 


>#' 


ESCAPING  FROM  CAPTIVITY. 


197 


tribe.  She  dissembles  her  reluctance,  humors  her  sav- 
age captors  and  forces  herself  to  accompany  them  on 
their  bloody  expeditions  wherein  she  saves  many  lives 
and  mitigates  the  sufferings  oi  her  fellow-captives. 

The  narrative  of  her  escape  we  give  in  her  own 
quaint  words. 

^"'  One  night  the  Indians,  very  greatly  fatigued  with 
their  day's  excursion,  composed  themselves  to  rest  as 
usual.  Observing  them  to  be  asleep,  I  tried  various 
ways  to  see  whether  it  was  a  scheme  to  prove  my  in- 
tentions or  not,  but,  after  making  a  noise,  and  walking 
about,  sometimes  touching  them  with  my  feet,  I  found 
there  was  no  fallacy.  My  heart  then  exulted  with  joy 
at  seeing  a  time  come  that  I  might,  in  all  probability 
be  delivered  from  my  captivity  ;  but  this  joy  was  soon 
dampened  by  the  dread  of  being  discovered  by  them, 
or  taken  by  anj'^  straggling  parties ;  to  prevent  which, 
I  resolved,  if  possible,  to  get  one  of  their  guns,  and, 
if  discovered,  to  die  in  my  defense,  rather  than  be 
taken.  For  that  purpose  I  made  various  efforts  to  get 
one  from  under  their  heads  (where  they  always  se- 
cured them\  but  in  vain. 

"  Frustra<>3d  in  this  my  first  essay  towards  regaining 
my  liberty,  T  <ireaded  the  thought  of  carrying  my  de- 
sign into  execution :  yet,  after  a  little  consideration,  and 
trusting  myself  to  the  divine  protection,  I  set  forward, 
naked  and  defenceless  as  I  was;  a  rash  and  dangerous 
enterprise !  Such  was  my  terror,  however,  that  in 
going  from  them,  I  halted  and  paused  every  four  or 
five  yards,  looking  fearfully  toward  the  spot  where  I 
had  left  then.,  lest  they  should  awake  and  miss  me ; 
but  when  I  was  about  two  hundred  yards  from  them,  I 
mended  my  pace,  and  made  as  much  haste  as  I  could 


198 


SOME  REMARKABLE  WOMEN. 


to  the  foot  of  the  mountains ;  when  on  sudden  I  was 
itruck  with  the  greatest  terror  and  amaze,  at  hearing 
the  wood-cry,  as  it  is  called,  they  make  when  any  ac- 
cident happens  them.  However,  fear  hastened  my 
steps,  and  though  they  dispersed,  not  one  happened 
to  hit  upon  the  track  I  had  taken.  When  I  had  run 
near  five  miles,  I  met  with  a  hollow  tree,  in  which  I 
concealed  myself  till  the  evening  of  the  next  day, 
when  I  renewed  my  flight,  and  next  night  slept  in  a 
*  *•  canebrake.  The  next  morning  I  crossed  a  brook, 
and  got  more  leisurely  along,  returning  thanks  to 
Providence,  in  my  heart,  for  my  happy  escape,  and 
praying  for  future  protection.  The  third  day,  in  the 
morning,  I  perceived  two  Indians  armed,  at  a  short 
distance,  which  I  verily  believed  were  in  pursuit  of 
me,  by  their  alternately  climbing  into  the  highest 
trees,  no  doubt  to  look  over  the  country  to  discover 
me.  This  reti^rded  my  flight  for  that  day;  but  at 
night  I  resumed  my  travels,  frightened  and  trembung 
at  every  bush  I  passed,  thinking  each  shrub  that  I 
touched,  a  savage  concealed  to  take  me.  It  was  moon- 
light nights  till  near  morning,  which  favored  my  es- 
cape. But  how  shall  I  describe  tlie  fear,  terror  and 
shock  that  I  felt  on  the  fourth  night,  when,  by  the 
rustling  I  made  among  the  leaves,  a  party  of  Indiana, 
that  lay  round  a  small  fire,  nearly  out,  which  I  did 
not  perceive,  started  from  the  ground,  and  seizing  their 
arms,  ran  from  the  fire  among  the  woods.  Whether 
to  move  forwan',  or  to  rest  where  I  was,  I  knmv  not, 
so  distracted  was  my  imagination.  In  this  melancholy 
state,  revolving  in  my  thoughts  the  now  inevit{il)le 
fate  I  thought  waited  on  me,  to  my  great  nstonishnicnt 
and  joy,  I  was  relieved  by  a  parcel  of  swine  that 


""^ 


""•WISBPIP 


•:J 


I 


A  NIGHT  OF  TERROR. 


199 


made  towards  the  place  where  I  guessed  the  savages 
to  be ;  who,  on  seeing  the  hogs,  conjectured  that  their 
alarm  had  been  occasioned  by  them,  and  directly  re- 
turned to  the  fire,  and  lay  down  to  sleep  as  before.  As 
soon  as  I  perceived  my  enemies  so  disposed  of,  with 
more  cautious  step  and  silert  tread,  I  pursued  my 
course,  sweating  (though  the  air  was  very  cold)  with 
the  fear  I  had  just  been  relieved  from.  Bruised, 
cut,  mangled  and  terrified  as  I  was,  I  still,  through 
divine  assistance,  was  enabled  to  pursue  my  journey 
until  break  of  day,  when,  thinking  myself  far  off  from 
any  of  those  miscreants  I  so  much  dreaded,  I  lay 
down  under  a  great  log,  and  slept  undisturbed  until 
about  noon,  when,  getting  up,  I  reached  the  summit 
of  a  great  hill  with  some  difficulty ;  and  looking  out 
if  I  could  spy  any  inhabitants  of  white  people,  to  my 
unutterable  joy  I  saw  some,  which  I  guessed  to  be 
about  ten  miles  distance.  This  pleasure  was  in  some 
measure  abated,  by  my  not  being  able  to  get  among 
them  that  night ;  therefore,  when  evening  approached 
I  again  re-commended  myself  to  the  Almighty,  and 
composed  my  weary  mangled  limbs  to  rest.  In  the 
morning  I  continued  my  journey  towards  the  nearest 
cleared  lands  I  had  seen  the  day  before ;  and  about 
four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  I  arrived  at  the  house  of 
John  Bell." 

Mrs.  Daviess  was  another  of  these  women  who, 
like  Mrs.  Williamson,  was  a  born  heroine,  of  whom 
there  were  many  who  acted  a  conspicuous  part  in  the 
territorial  history  of  Kentucky.  Large  and  splendidly 
formed,  she  possessed  the  strength  of  a  man  with  the 
gentle  loveliness  of  the  true  woman.  In  the  hoar  of 
peril,  and  such  hours  were  frequent  with  her,  she  was 


,i' 


^p^m^mf^i^^^Kmm 


)' 


200 


S031E  REMARKABLE  WOMEN. 


firm,  cool,  and  fertile  of  resource ;  her  whole  life,  of 
which  we  give  only  a  few  episodes,  was  one  continuous 
succession  of  brave  and  noble  deeds.  Both  she  and 
Mrs.  Wir  iamson  appear  to  have  been  real  instances  of 
the  poet's  ideal : 

"A  perfect  woman  nobly  planned 
To  warn,  to  comfort,  and  command." 

*Her  husband,  Samuel  Daviess,  vv^as  an  early  settler 
at  Gilmer's  Lick,  in  Lincoln  County,  Kentucky.  In 
the  month  of  August,  1782,  while  a  few  rods  from  his 
house,  he  was  attacked  early  one  morning  by  an 
Indian,  and  attempting  to  get  within  doors  he  found 
that  his  house  was  already  occupied  by  the  other 
Indians.  He  succeeded  in  making  his  escape  to  his 
brother's  station,  five  miles  off,  and  giving  the  alr.rm 
was  soon  on  his  way  back  to  his  cabin  in  company 
with  five  stout,  well  armed  men. 

Meanwhile,  the  Indians,  four  in  number,  who  had 
entered  the  house  while  the  fifth  was  in  pursuit  of 
Mr.  Daviess,  roused  Mrs.  Daviess  and  the  children 
from  their  beds  and  gave  them  to  understand  that 
they  must  go  with  them  as  prisoners.  Mrs.  Daviess 
occupied  as  long  a  time  as  possible  in  dressing,  hoping 
that  som«  relief  would  come.  She  also  delayed  the 
Indians  nearly  two  hours  by  showing  them  one  article 
of  clothing  and  then  another,  explaining  their  uses 
and  expatiating  on  their  value. 

While  this  was  going  on  the  Indian  who  had  been 
in  pursuit  of  her  husband  returned  with  his  hands 
stained  with  pokeberries,  waving  his  tomahawk  with 
violent  gestures  as  if  to  convey  the  belief  that  he  had 
killed  Mr.  Daviess.      The  keen-eyed  wife  soon  dis-. 


\ 


H^ 


f 


*  Collins'  Historical  Sketches. 


MRS.  DAVIESS'    ADVENTURES. 


201 


\ 


■  I 


♦ 


f 


covered  the  deception,  and  was  satisfied  that  her 
husband  had  escaped  uninjured. 

After  plundering  the  house,  the  savages  started  to 
depart,  taking  Mrs.  Daviess  and  her  seven  children 
with  them.  As  some  of  the  children  were  too  young 
to  travel  as  rapidly  as  the  Indians  wished,  and  dis- 
covering, as  she  believed,  their  intention  to  kill  them, 
she  made  the  two  oldest  boys  carry  the  two  youngest 
on  their  backs. 

In  order  to  leave  no  trail  behind  them,  the  Indians 
traveled  with  the  greatest  caution,  not  permitting 
their  captives  to  break  a  twig  or  weed  as  they  passed 
along,  and  to  expedite  Mrs.  Daviess'  movements  one 
of  them  reached  down  and  cut  off  with  his  knife  a 
few  inches  of  her  dress. 

Mrs.  Daviess  was  accustomed  to  handle  a  gun  and 
was  a  good  shot,  like  many  other  women  on  the 
frontier.  She  contemplated  as  a  last  resort  that,  if 
not  rescued  in  the  course  of  the  day,  when  night  came 
and  the  Indians  had  fallen  asleep,  she  would  deliver 
herself  and  her  children  by  killing  as  many  of  the 
Indians  as  she  could,  believing  that  in  a  night  i^ttack 
the  rest  would  fly  panic-stricken. 

Mr.  Daviess  and  his  companions  reaching  the  house 
and  finding  it  empty,  succeeded  in  striking  the  trail 
of  the  Indians  and  hastened  in  pursuit.  They  had 
gone  but  a  few  miles  before  th  jy  overtook  them. 
Two  Indian  spies  in  the  rear  first  discovered  the 
pursuers,  and  running  on  overtook  the  others  and 
knocked  down  and  scalped  the  oldest  boy,  but  did  not 
kill  him.  The  pursuers  fired  at  the  Indians  but 
missed.  The  latter  became  a\armed  and  confused, 
and  Mrs.  Daviess  taking  advantage  of  this  circumstance 


I 


202 


SOME  REMARKABLE  WOMEN. 


jumped  into  a  sink-hole  with  her  infant  in  her  arms. 
The  Indians  fled  and  every  child  was  saved.  ' 

Kentucky  in  its  early  days,  like  most  new  countries, 
was  occasionally  troubled  with  men  of  abandoned 
character,  who  lived  by  stealing  the  property  of 
others,  and  after  committing  their  depredations,  retired 
to  their  hiding-places,  thereby  eluding  the  operation 
of  the  law.  One  of  these  marauders,  a  man  of  desper- 
ate character,  who  had  committed  extensive  thefts 
from  Mr.  Daviess,*  as  well  as  from  his  neighbors,  was 
pursued  by  Daviess  and  a  party  whose  property  he 
had  taken,  in  order  to  bring  him  to  justice. 

While  the  party  were  in  pursuit,  the  suspected 
individual,  not  knowing  that  any  one  was  pursuing 
him,  came  to  the  house  of  Daviess,  armed  with  his 
gun  and  tomahawk, — no  person  being  at  home  but 
Mrs.  Daviess  and  her  children.  After  he  had  stepped 
into  the  house,  Mrs.  Daviess  asked  him  if  he  would 
drink  something ;  and  having  set  a  bottle  of  whiskey 
upon  the  table,  requested  him  to  help  himself  The 
fellow  not  suspecting  any  danger,  set  his  gun  by  the 
door,  and  while  he  wr.s  drinking  Mrs.  Daviess  picked 
it  up,  and  placing  herself  in  the  doorway  had  the 
weapon  cocked  and  leveled  upon  him  by  the  time  he 
turned  around,  and  in  a  peremptory  manner  ordered 
him  to  take  a  seat  or  she  would  shoot  him.  Struck 
with  terror  and  alarm,  he  asked  what  he  had  done. 
She  told  him  he  had  stolen  her  husband's  property, 
and  that  she  intended  to  take  care  of  him  herself 
In  that  condition  she  held  him  prisoner  until  the  party 
of  men  returned  and  took  him  into  their  possession. 

These  are  only  a  few  out  of  many  similar  acts  which 
show  the  character  of  Mrs.   Daviess.      She  became 


t 


i 

I 


■^l 


u 


•*-■*■  i«iMiihiB„j,u.a.ii 


mmmmmiJkiim 


\ 


i.-i. 


P>"         I"   ■         "I   MIIM^^^iWilBdlPpPI 


Jll^ 


> 


\ 


rZ?£  CHARMING  QUAKERESS. 


203 


noted  all  through  the  frontier  settl  foments  of  that  region 
during  the  troublous  times  in  which  she  lived,  not 
only  for  her  courage  and  daring,  but  for  her  shrewd- 
ness in  circumventing  the  stratagems  of  the  wily  sav- 
ages by  whom  her  family  were  surrounded.  Her 
oldest  boy  inherited  his  mother's  character,  and  prom- 
ised to  be  one  of  the  most  famous  Indian  fighters  of 
his  day,  when  he  met  his  death  at  the  hands  of  his 
savage  foes  in  early  manhood. 

If  Mrs.  Williamson  and  Mrs.  Daviess  were  represent- 
ative women  in  the  more  stormy  and  rugged  scenes 
of  frontier  life,  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Estaugh  may  stand  as  a 
true  type  of  the  gentle  and  benevolent  matron,  bright- 
ening her  forest  home  by  her  kindly  presence,  and 
making  her  influence  felt  in  a  thousand  ways  for  good 
among  her  neighbors  in  the  lonely  hamlet  where  she 
chose  to  live.  .  "  ' 

Her  maiden  name  was  Haddor ;  she  was  the  oldest 
daughter  of  a  wealthy  and  well  educated  but  humble- 
minded  Quaker  of  London.  She  was  endowed  by  na- 
ture with  strength  of  mind,  earnestness,  energy,  and 
with  a  heart  overflowing  with  kindness  and  warmth 
of  feeling.  The  education  bestowed  upon  her,  was, 
after  the  manner  of  her  sect,  a  highly  practical  one, 
such  as  might  be  expected  to  draw  forth  her  native 
powers  by  careful  training  of  the  mind,  without 
quenching  the  kindly  emotions  by  which  she  was  dis- 
tinguished from  her  early  childhood. 

At  the  age  of  seventeen  she  made  a  profession  of 
religion,  uniting  herself  with  the  Quakers.  During 
her  girlhood  William  Penn  visited  the  house  of  her 
father,  and  greatly  interested  her  by  describing  his 
adventures  with  the  Indians  in  the  wilds  of  Pennsyl- 


p-  mr 


i 


204 


SOME  REMARKABLE  WOMEN. 


vania.  From  that  hour  her  thoughts  were  directed 
towards  the  new  world,  where  so  many  of  her  sect 
had  emigrated,  and  she  longed  to  cross  the  ocean  and 
take  up  her  abode  among  them.  She  pictured  to  her- 
self the  toils  and  privations  of  the  Quaker-pioneers  in 
that  new  country,  and  ardently  desired  to  join  them 
and  share  their  labors  and  dangers,  and  alleviate  their 
sufferings  by  charitably  dispensing  a  portion  of  that 
wealth  which  she  was  destined  to  possess. 

Her  father  sympathized  with  her  views  and  aims, 
and  was  at  length  induced  to  buy  a  large  tract  of  land 
in  New  Jersey,  where  he  proposed  to  go  and  settle- 
in  company  with  his  daughter  Elizabeth,  and  there 
carry  out  the  plans  which  she  had  formed.  His  af- 
fairs in  England  took  such  a  turn  that  he  decided  to 
remain  in  his  native  land. 

This  was  a  sad  disappointment  to  Elizabeth.  She 
had  arrived  at  the  conviction  that  among  her  people 
in  the  new  world  was  to  be  her  sphere  of  duty ;  she 
felt  a  call  thither  which  she  could  not  disregard  ;  and 
when  her  father,  who  was  unwilling  that  the  property 
should  lie  unimproved,  offered  the  tract  of  land  in 
New  Jersey  to  any  relative  who  would  settle  upon  it, 
she  gladly  availed  herself  of  the  proffer,  and  begged 
that  she  might  go  herself  as  a  pioneer  into  that  far-off 
wilderness. 

It  was  a  sore  trial  for  her  parents  to  part  with  their 
beloved  daughter ;  but  her  character  was  so  stable,  and 
her  convictions  of  duty  so  unswerving,  that  at  the  eml 
of  three  months  and  after  much  prayer,  they  con- 
sented tearfully  that  Elizabeth  should  join  "  the  Lord's 
people  in  the  new  world." 

Arrangements  were  accordingly  made  for  her  de- 


i 


'S.» 


AN  AFFECTING  SCENE. 


205 


parture,  and  all  that  wealth  could  prbvide  or  thought- 
ful affection  devise,  was  prepared,  both  for  the  long 
voyage  across  that  stormy  sea  and  against  the  hard- 
ships and  trials  in  the  forest  home  which  was  to  be 
hers.  In  the  spring  of  1700  she  set  sail,  accompanied 
by  a  poor  widow  of  good  sense  and  discretion,  who 
had  been  chosen  to  act  as  her  friend  and  housekeeper, 
and  two  trustworthy  men-servants,  members  of  the 
Society  of  Friends, 

Among  the  many  extraordinary  manifestations  of 
strong  faith  and  religious  zeal  connected  with  the 
early  settlement  of  this  country,  few  are  more  remark- 
able than  this  enterprise  of  Elizabeth  Estaugh.  Ten- 
derly reared  in  a  delightful  home  in  a  great  city,  where 
she  had  been  surrounded  with  pleasing  associations 
from  infancy,  and  where  as  a  lovely  young  lady  she 
was  the  idol  of  the  circle  of  society  in  which  she 
moved,  she  was  still  willing  and  desirous  at  the  call  of 
religious  duty,  to  separate  herself  from  home,  friends, 
and  the  pleasures  of  civilization,  and  depart  to  a  dis- 
tant clime  and  a  wild  country.  Hardly  less  remarka- . 
ble  and  admirable  was  the  self-sacrificing  npirit  of  her 
parents  in  giving  up  their  child  in  obedience  to  the 
promptings  of  her  own  conscience.  "We  can  imagine 
the  parting  on  the  deck  of  the  vessel  which  was 
spreading  its  sails  to  bear  this  sweet  missionary  away 
from  her  native  land  and  the  beloved  of  her  old  home. 
Angelic  love  beams  and  sorrow  darkles  from  the 
serene  countenances  of  the  father,  and  mother,  and 
daughter,  and  yet  no  tear  is  shed  on  either  side.  The 
vessel  drops  down  the  harbor,  and  the  family  stand 
on  the  wharf  straining  their  eyes  to  catch  the  last  look 
from  the  departing  maiden,  who  leans  on  the  bulwark 


i 


T 


i 


206 


SOME  REMARKABLE  WOMEN. 


and  answers  the  silent  and  sorrowful  faces  with  a 
heavenly  smile  of  love  and  pity.  Even  during  the 
long  and  tedious  voyage  Elizabeth  never  wept.  Her 
sense  of  duty  controlled  every  other  emotion  of  her 
soul,  and  she  maintained  her  martyr-like  cheerfulness 
and  serenity  to  the  end. 

That  part  of  New  Jersey  where  the  Haddon  tract 
lay  was  at  that  period  an  almost  unbroken  wilderness. 
Scarcely  more  than  twenty  years  had  then  elapsed 
since  the  twenty  or  thirty  cabins  had  been  built  which 
formed  the  germ-settlement  out  of  which  grew  the 
city  of  Brotherly  Love,  and  nine  miles  of  dense  for- 
est and  a  broad  river  separated  the  maiden  and  her 
household  from  the  people  in  the  hamlet  across  the 
Delaware. 

The  home  prepared  for  her  reception  stood  in  a 
clearing  of  the  forest,  three  miles  from  any  other 
dwelling.  She  arrived  in  June,  when  the  landscape 
was  smiling  in  youthful  beauty,  and  it  seemed  to  her 
as  if  the  arch  of  heaven  was  never  before  so  clear  and 
bright,  the  carpet  of  the  earth  never  so  verdant.  As 
she  sat  at  her  window  and  saw  evening  close  in  upon 
her  in  that  broad  forest  home,  and  heard  for  the  firi-t 
time  the  mournful  notes  of  the  whippoorwill,  and  tlic 
harsh  scream  of  the  jay  in  tlie  distant  woods,  she  was 
oppressed  with  a  sense  of  vastness,  of  iiifiiiit}',  which 
she  never  before  experienced,  not  even  vn  the  ocean. 
She  remained  long  in  prayer,  and  when  she  lay  down 
to  sleep  beside  her  matron-friend,  no  words  were 
spoken  between  them.  The  elder,  overcome  with  fa- 
tigue, soon  sank  into  a  peaceful  slumber ;  but  the 
young  enthusiast  lay  long  awake,  listening  to  the  lone 
voice  of  the  whippoorwill  complaining  to  the  night.  Yet, 


.r 


A  WILDERNESS  OF  BEAUTY.  £07 

notwithstanding  this  prolonged  wakefulness,  she  arose 
early  and  looked  out  upon  the  lovely  landscape.  The 
rising  sun  pointed  to  the  tallest  trees  with  his  golden 
finger,  and  wasL.  welcomed  with  a  gush  of  song  from  a 
thousand  warblers.  The  poetry  in  Elizabeth's  soul, 
repressed  by  the  severe  plainness  of  her  education, 
gushed  up  like  a  fountain.  She  dropped  on  her  knees, 
and  with  an  outburst  of  prayer,  exclaimed  fervently, 
"  Oh,  Father,  very  beautiful  hast  thou  made  this  earth ! 
How  beautiful  are  thy  gifts,  0  Lord !" 

To  a  spirit  less  meek  and  brave,  the  darker  shades 
of  the  picture  would  have  obscured  these  cheerful 
gleams;  for  the  situation  was  lonely,  and  the  incon- 
veniences innuiiiorable.  But  Elizabeth  easily  tri- 
umphed over  all  obstacles,  by  practical  good  sense  and 
by  the  quick  promptings  of  her  ingenuity.  She  was 
one  of  those  clear,  strong  natures,  who  always  have 
a  definite  aim  in  view,  and  who  see  at  once  the  means 
best  suited  to  the  end.  Her  first  inquiry  was,  what 
grain  was  best  adapted  to  the  soil  of  her  farm ;  and 
being  informed  that  rye  would  yield  the  best,  "  Then 
I  shall  eat  rye  bread,"  was  the  answer. 

When  winter  came,  and  the  gleaming  snow  spread  its 
unbroken  silence  over  hill  and  plain,  was  it  not  dreary 
then?  It  would  have  been  dreary  indeed  to  one  who 
entered  upon  this  mode  of  life  for  mere  love  of  nov- 
elty, or  a  vain  desire  to  do  something  extraordinary. 
But  the  idea  of  extended  usefulness,  which  had  first 
lured  this  remarkable  girl  into  a  path  so  unusual,  sus- 
tained her  through  all  her  trials.  She  was  too  busy 
to  be  sad,  and  leaned  too  trustingly  on  her  Father's 
hand  to  be  doubtful  of  her  way.  The  neighboring 
Indians  soon  loved  her  as  a  friend,  for  they  always 


Vi 


J 


208 


SOME  REMARKABLE  WOMEN. 


i 


'% 


found  her  truthful,  just,  and  kind.  From  their  teach- 
ings she  added  much  to  her  knowledge  of  simple  medi- 
cines. So  efficient  was  her  skill,  and  so  prompt  her 
sympathy,  that  for  many  miles  round,  if  man,  woman, 
or  child  were  alarmingly  ill,  they  were  sure  to  send 
for  Elizabeth  Haddon;  and  wherever  she  went,  her 
observing  mind  gathered  some  hint  for  the  improve- 
ment of  farm  or  dairy.  Her  house  and  heart  were 
both  large,  and  as  her  residence  was  on  the  way  to  the 
Quaker  meeting-house  in  Newtown,  it  became  a  place 
of  universal  resort  to  Friends  from  all  parts  of  the 
country  traveling  that  road,  as  well  as  an  asylum  for 
benighted  wanderers. 

Late  one  winter's  evening  a  tin!  Jing  of  sleigh-bella 
was  heard  at  the  entranct'  of  the  clearing,  and  soon  the 
hoofs  of  horses  were  crunching  the  snow  as  they  passed 
through  the  great  gate  towards  the  barn.  The  arrival 
of  strangers  was  a  common  occurrence,  for  the  home 
of  Elizabeth  Haddon  was  celebrated  far  and  near  as 
the  abode  of  hospitality.  The  toil  worn  or  benighted 
traveler  there  found  a  sincere  welcome,  and  none  who 
enjoyed  that  friendly  shelter  and  abundant  cheer  ever 
departed  without  regret.  But  now  there  was  an  un- 
wonted stir  in  that  well-ordered  family ;  great  logs 
were  piled  in  the  capacious  fireplace,  and  hasty  prep- 
arations were  made  as  if  to  receive  guests  who  were 
more  than  ordinarily  welcome.  Elizabeth,  looking 
from  the  window,  had  recognized  one  of  the  strangers 
in  the  sleigh  as  John  Estaugh,  with  whose  preaching 
years  before  in  London  she  had  been  deeply  impressed, 
and  ever  since  she  had  treasured  in  her  memory  many 
of  his  words.  It  was  almost  like  a  glimpse  of  hor  dear 
old  English  home  to  see  him  enter,  and  stepping  for- 


-' 


^mm 


mmmmmmmmmmmm 


A  WELCOME  GUEST. 


m 


ward  with  more  than  usual  cordiaHty  she  gre  ^ted  him, 
saying, 

"Thou  art  welcome,  friend  Estaugh,  the  more  so 
lor  being  entirely  unexpected." 

"And  I  am  glad  to  see  thee,  Elizabeth,"  he  replied, 
with  a  friendly  shake  of  the  hand,  "  it  was  not  until 
after  I  had  landed  in  America  that  I  heard  the  Lord 
had  called  thee  hither  before  me ;  but  I  remember 
thy  father  told  me  how  often  thou  hadst  played  the 
settler  in  the   woods,  when  thou  wast  quite  a  little 

girl." 

"  I  am  but  a  child  still,"  she  replied,  smiling. 

"I  trust  thou  art,"  he  rejoined;  "and  as  for  those 
strong  impressions  in  childhood,  I  ho,  /e  heard  of  many 
cases  when  they  seemed  to  be  nrophecies  sent  from 
the  Lord.  When  I  saw  thy  father  in  London,  I  had 
even  then  an  indistinct  idea  that  I  might  sometime 
be  sent  to  America  on  a  religious  visit." 

"  And  hast  thou  forgotten,  friend  John,  the  ear  of 
Indian  corn  which  my  father  begged  of  thee  for  me  ? 
I  can  show  it  to  thee  now.  Since  then  I  have  seen  this 
grain  in  perfect  growth ;  and  a  goodly  plant  it  is,  J 
assure  thee.  See,"  she  continuod,  pointing  to  many 
bunches  of  ripe  corn  whicii  hung  in  their  braided 
husks  against  the  wall  of  the  ample  kitchen;  "all 
that,  and  more,  came  from  a  single  ear,  no  bigger 
than  the  one  thou  didst  give  my  father.  May  the 
seed  sown  by  thy  ministry  be  as  fruitful !"  "  Amen," 
replied  both  the  guests. 

That  evening  a  severe  snow-storm  came  on,  and  all 
night  the  blast  howled  round  the  dwellir  g.  The  next 
morning  it  was  discovered  tliat  the  roads  were  ren- 
dered impassable  by  the  heavy  drifts.  The  home  of 
U 


\ 


^r 


210 


SOME  REMARKABLE  WOMEN. 


, 


Elizabeth  had  already  been  made  the  center  of  a  set- 
tlement composed  mainly  of  poor  families,  who  relied 
largely  upon  her  to  aid  them  in  cases  of  distress. 
That  winter  they  had  been  severely  afflicted  by  the 
fever  incident  to  a  new  settled  country,  and  Elizabeth 
was  in  the  habit  of  making  them  daily  visits,  furnish- 
ing them  with  food  and  medicines. 

The  storm  roused  her  to  an  even  more  energetic 
benevolence  than  ordinary.  Men,  oxen,  and  sledges 
were  sent  out,  and  pathways  were  opened  ;  the  whole 
force  of  Elizabeth's  household,  under  her  immediate 
superintendence,  joining  in  the  good  work.  John 
Estaugh  and  his  friend  tendered  their  services  joy 
fully,  and  none  worked  harder  than  they.  His  coun* 
tenance  glowed  with  the  exercise,  and  a  cheerful 
childlike  outbeaming  hon(;sty  of  soul  shone  forth,  at' 
tracting  the  kind  but  modest  regards  of  the  maiden. 
It  seemed  to  her  as  if  she  had  found  in  him  a  partner 
in  the  good  work  which  she  had  undertaken. 

When  the  paths  had  been  made,  Elizabeth  set  out 
with  a  sled-load  of  provisions  to  visit  her  patients,  and 
John  Estaugh  asked  permission  to  accompany  her. 

While  they  were  standing  together  by  the  bedside 
of  the  aged  and  suffering,  she  saw  her  companion  in 
a  new  and  still  more  attractive  guise.  His  countenance 
expressed  a  sincerity  of  sympnihy  warmed  by  rays  of 
love  from  the  Sun  of  mercy  and  righteousness  itself.  He 
spoke  to  the  feeble  and  the  invalid  words  of  kindness 
and  consolatioii,  and  his  voice  was  modulated  to  a 
deep  tone  of  tenderness,  when  he  took  the  little 
children  in  his  arms. 

The  following  "  first  day,"  which  world's  people  call 
the  Sabbath,  meeting  was  attended  at  Newtown  by  the 


.T 


1 


t 


JOHN  AND  ELIZABETH. 


211 


hw- 


<^ 


whole  family,  and  then  John  Estaugh  was  moved  by 
the  Spirit  to  speak  words  that  sank  into  the  hearts  of 
his  hearers.  It  was  a  discourse  on  the  trials  and 
temptations  of  daily  life,  drawing  a  contrast  between 
this  course  of  earthly  probation,  ,vith  its  toils,  suffer- 
ings, and  sorrows,  and  tha,t  higher  life,  with  its 
rewards  to  the  faithful  beyond  the  grave. 

Elizabeth  listened  to  the  preacher  with  meek  atten- 
tion ;  he  seemed  to  be  speaking  to  her,  for  all  the  les- 
sons of  the  discourse  w^re  applicable  to  herself.  As 
the  deep  tones  of  the  good  man  ceased  to  vibrate  in 
her  ears,  and  there  was  stillness  for  a  full  half  hour  in 
the  house,  she  pondered  over  it  deeply.  The  impres- 
sion made  by  the  young  preacher  seemed  to  open  a 
new  window  in  her  soul;  he  was  a  God-sent  messen- 
ger, whose  character  and  teachings  would  lift  still 
higher  her  life,  and  sanctify  her  mission  with  a  holier 
inspiration. 

A  few  days  of  united  duties  and  oneness  of  heart 
made  John  and  Elizabeth  more  thoroughly  acquainted 
with  each  other  than  they  could  have  been  by  years 
of  ordinary  fashionable  intercourse. 

They  wer«  soon  obliged  to  separate,  the  young 
}.;>  'mcher  being  called  to  other  meetings  of  his  sect  in 
JNa.v'^  Jersey  and  Peniisylvaniju  When  they  bade  each 
Other  farewell,  neither  knew  that  they  would  ever 
meet  again,  for  John  Estp.ugh's  duty  might  call  him 
f roii\  the  country  ere  another  vinter,  f.nd  his  avocations 
in  the  new  world  '.vere  absorbiiig'  and  continuous. 
With  a  full  heart,  but  with  the  meekness  characteristic 
of  her  sect,  Elizabeth  turned  away  to  her  daily  round 
of  good  works  Avith  a  new  and  holier  zeal. 

in  May  following  they  met  again.     John  Estaugh, 


'f — 


I 


212 


SOME  REMARKABLE  WOMEN. 


in  company  with  numerous  other  Friends,  stopped  at 
her  house  to  lodge  while  on  their  way  to  the  quait^ rly 
meeting  at  Salem.  The  next  day  a  cavalcade  started 
from  her  hospitable  door  on  horseback,  for  that  was 
before  the  days  of  wagons  in  Jersey. 

John  Estaugh,  always  kindly  in  his  impulses,  busied 
himself  with  helping  a  lame  and  very  ugly  old  woman, 
and  left  his  hostess  to  mount  her  horse  as  she  could. 
Most  young  women  v-oiild  have  felt  slighted ;  but  in 
Elizabeth's  noble  soul  .'  riiet,  deep  tide  of  feeling 
rippled  with  an  inward  j  "  He  is  always  kindest 

to  the  poor  and  neglected,"  thought  she ;  "  verily  he 
is  a  good  youth." 

She  was  leaning  over  the  side  of  her  horse,  to 
adjust  the  buckle  of  the  girth,  when  he  came  up  on 
horseback  and  enquired  if  anything  was  out  of  order. 
She  thanked  him,  with  slight  confusion  of  manner, 
and  a  voice  less  calm  than  her  usual  utterance.  He 
assisted  her  to  mount,  and  they  trotted  along  leisurely 
behind  the  procession  of  guests,  speaking  of  the  soil 
and  climate  of  this  new  country,  and  how  wonderfully 
the  Lord  had  here  provided  a  home  for  his  chosen 
people.  Presently  the  girth  began  to  slip,  and  the 
saddle  turned  so  much  on  one  side  that  Elizabeth  was 
obliged  to  dismount.  It  took  some  time  to  readjust 
the  girth,  and  when  they  again  started,  the  company 
were  out  of  sight.  There  was  brighter  color  than 
usual  in  the  maiden's  cheeks,  and  unwonted  radiance 
in  her  mild,  deep  eyes. 

After  a  short  silence,  she  said,  in  a  voice  slightly 
tremulous,  "Friend  John,  I  have  a  subject  of  import- 
ance on  my  mind,  and  one  which  nearly  interests  thee. 
I  am  strongly  impressed  that  the  Lord  has  sent  thee 


'-rS.* 


<*». 


A  QUAKER  COURTSHIP. 


213 


-4w 


1 


-*(►«. 


to  me  as  a  partner  for  life.  I  tell  thee  my  impression 
frankly,  but  not  without  calm  and  deep  reflection,  for 
matriiiiony  is  a  holy  relation,  and  should  be  entered 
into  with  all  sobriety.  If  thou  hast  no  light  on  the 
subject,  wilt  thou  gather  into  the  stillness  and  rever- 
ently listen  to  thy  own  inward  revealings  ?  Thou  art 
to  leave  this  part  of  the  country  to-morrow,  and  not 
knowing  when  I  should  see  thee  again,  I  felt  moved 
to  tell  thee  what  lay  upon  my  mind." 

The  young  man  was  taken  by  surprise.  Though 
accustomed  to  that  suppression  of  emotion  which 
characterizes  his  religious  sect,  the  color  came  and 
went  rapidly  in  his  face,  for  a  moment.  But  he  soon 
became  calmer,  and  replied,  "  This  thought  is  new  to 
me,  Elizabeth,  and  I  have  no  light  thereon.  Thy 
company  has  been  right  pleasant  to  me,  and  thy  coun- 
tenance ever  reminds  me  of  William  Penn's  title-page, 
^Innocency  luith  her  open  face.^  I  have  seen  thy  kind- 
ness to  the  poor,  and  the  wise  management  of  thy 
household.  I  have  observed,  too,  that  thy  warm- 
heartedness is  tempered  with  a  most  excellent  discre- 
tion, and  that  thy  speech  is  ever  sincere.  Assuredly, 
such  is  the  maiden  I  would  ask  of  the  Lord  a3  a  most 
precious  gift;  but  I  never  thought  of  this  connection 
with  thee.  I  came  to  this  country  solely  on  a 
religious  visit,  and  it  might  distract  my  mind  to  enter- 
tain this  subject  at  present.  When  I  have  discharged 
the  duties  of  my  mission,  we  will  speak  further." 

"  It  is  best  so,"  rejoined  the  maiden,  "  but  there  is 
one  thing  disturbs  my  conscience.  Thou  hast  spoken 
of  my  true  speech ;  and  yet,  friend  John,  I  have 
deceived  thee  a  little,  even  now,  while  we  conferred 
together  on  a  subject  so  serious.     I  know  not  from 


'i 


214 


S031E  REMARKABLE  WOMEN. 


what  weakness  the  temptation  came,  but  I  will  not 
hide  it  from  thee.     I  allowed  thee  to  suppose,  just 


now,   that  I  was  fastenin":  the 


girth 


of 


my 


horse 


securely ;  but,  in  plain  truth,  I  was  loosening  the  girth, 
John,  that  the  saddle  might  slip,  and  give  me  an 
excuse  to  fall  behind  our  friends ;  for  I  thoui^ht  thou 
wouldst  be  kind  enough  to  come  and  ask  if  I  needed 
thy  services." 

They  spoke  no  farther  upon  this  topic ;  but  when 
John  Estaugh  returned  to  England  in  July,  he  pressed 
her  hand  affectionately,  as  he  said,  "  Farewell,  Eliza- 
beth :  if  it  be  the  Lord's  will  I  shall  return  to  thee 
soon.*' 

The  young  preacher  made  but  a  brief  sojourn  in 
England.  The  Society  of  Friends  in  London  appreci- 
ated his  value  as  a  laborer  among  them  and  would 
have  been  pleased  to  see  him  remain,  but  they  knew 
how  fruitful  of  good  had  been  his  labors  among  the 
brethren  in  the  wilderness,  and  deemed  it  a  wise  reso- 
lution when  he  informed  them  that  he  should  shortly 
return  to  America.  Early  in  September  he  set  sail 
from  London  and  reached  New  York  the  following 
month.  A  few  days  after  landing  he  journeyed  on 
horseback  to  the  dwelling  where  Elizabeth  wus  await- 
ing him,  and  they  were  soon  after  married  at  Newtown 
Meeting  according  to  the  simple  form  of  the  Society 
of  Friends.  Neither  of  them  made  any  change  of 
dress  for  the  occasion;  there  was  no  wedding  feast; 
no  priest  or  magistrate  was  present ;  in  the  presence 
of  witnesses  they  simply  took  each  other  by  the  hand 
and  solemnly  promised  to  be  kind  and  faithful  to  each 
other.  The  wedded  pair  then  quietly  returned  to 
their  happy  home,  prepared  to  resume  together  that 


*• 


^r 


^^- 


•^•NaM. 


A  NOTABLE  HOUSEWIFE. 


215 


life  of  good  words  and  kind  deeds  which  each  had 
thus  far  pursued  alone. 

Thrice  during  the  long  period  of  their  union  did 
she  cross  the  Atlantic  to  visit  her  aged  parents,  and 
not  seldom  he  left  her  for  a  season  when  called  to 
preach  abroad.  These  temporary  separations  were 
hard  for  her  to  bear,  but  she  cheerfully  gave  him  up 
to  follow  in  the  path  of  his  duty  wherever  it  might 
lead  him.  Amid  her  cares  and  pleasures  as  a  wife  she 
neither  grew  self-absorbed  nor,  like  many  of  her  sex, 
bounded  her  benevolence  within  the  area  of  the 
household.  Her  heart  was  too  large,  her  charity  too 
abounding,  to  do  that,  and  her  sense  of  duty  to  her 
fellow-men  always  dominated  that  narrow  feeling 
which  concentrates  kindness  on  self  or  those  nearest 
to  one.  While  her  husband  performed  his  noble  work 
in  the  care  of  souls,  she  pursued  her  career  within  the 
sphere  where  it  was  so  allotted.  As  a  housewife  she 
was  notable;  to  her  might  be  applied  the  words  of 
King  Lemuel,  in  the  Proverbs  of  Solomon,  celebrating 
and  describing  the  good  wife,  "  and  her  works  praised 
her  in  the  gates."  As  a  neighbor  she  was  generous 
and  sympathetic ;  she  stretched  out  her  hand  to  the 
poor  and  needy ;  she  was  at  once  a  guardian  and  a 
minister  of  mercy  to  the  settlement. 

When,  after  forty  years  of  happiness  in  wedlock, 
her  husband  was  taken  from  her,  she  gave  evidence 
of  her  appreciation  of  his  worth  in  a  preface  which 
she  published  to  one  of  his  religious  tracts  entitled, 
"Elizabeth  Estaugh's  testimony  concerning  her  be- 
loved husband,  John  Estaugh."  In  this  preface  she 
says : 

"Since  it  pleased  Divine  Providence  so  highly  to 


4 


mmm 


mmmmm 


216 


SOME  REMARKABLE  WOMEy. 


1  '■ 


favor  me  with  being  the  near  companion  to  this  dear 
worthy,  I  must  give  some  small  account  of  him. 
Few,  if  any,  in  a  married  state,  ever  lived  in  sweeter 
harmony  than  we  did.  He  was  a  pattern  of  modera- 
tion in  all  things ;  not  lifted  up  with  any  enjoyments, 
nor  cast  down  at  disappointments;  a  man  endowed 
with  many  good  gifts,  which  rendered  him  very  agree- 
able to  his  friends,  and  much  more  to  me,  his  wife,  to 
whom  his  memory  is  most  dear  and  precious." 

Elizabeth  survived  her  excellent  husband  twenty 
years,  useful  and  honored  to  the  last.  The  monthly 
meeting  of  Haddonfield,  in  a  published  testimonial, 
speaks  of  her  thus : 

"She  was  eridowed  with  great  natural  abilities, 
which,  being  sanctified  by  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  were 
much  improved ;  whereby  she  became  qualiH  jd  to  act 
in  the  affairs  of  the  church,  and  was  a  serviceable 
member,  having  been  clerk  to  the  woman's  meeting 
nearly  fifty  years,  greatly  to  their  satisfaction.  She 
was  a  sincere  sympathizer  with  the  afflicted ;  of  a 
benevolent  disposition,  and  in  distributing  to  the  poor, 
was  desirous  to  do  it  in  a  way  most  profitable  and 
durable  to  them,  and,  if  possible,  not  to  let  the  right 
hand  know  what  the  left  did.  Though  in  a  state 
of  affluence  as  to  this  world's  wealth,  she  was  an 
example  of  plainness  and  moderation.  Her  heart  and 
house  were  open  to  her  friends,  whom  to  entertain 
seemed  or'>  of  her  greatest  pleasures.  Prudently 
cheerful  and  well  knowing  the  value  of  friendship, 
she  was  careful  not  to  wound  it  herself  nor  to  encour- 
age others  in  whispering  supposed  failings  or  weak- 
nesses. Her  last  illness  brought  great  bodily  pain, 
which  she  bore  with  much  calmness  of  mind  and 


T- 


I 


ROMANCE  OF  BORDER-LIFE. 


217 


sweetness  of  spirit.  She  departed  this  life  as  one 
falling  asleep,  full  of  days,  "like  unto  a  shock  of  com 
fully  ripe.'  " 

The  maiden  name  of  this  gentle  and  useful  won;an 
has  been  preserved  in  Haddonfield,  thus  appropriately 
commemorating  her  manifold  services  in  the  early 
days  of  the  settlement  of  which  she  was  the  pioneer- 
mother.  . 


-•-•-^ 


CHAPTETt   X. 


ROMANCE  OF  THE  BORDER. 

I^TIHE  romance  of  border-life  is  inseparably  associ- 
-L  ated  with  woman,  being  her  natural  attendant 
during  her  wanderings  through  the  wilderness.  A 
distinguished  American  orator  has  suggested  tha,t  a 
series  of  novels  might  be  written  founded  upon  the 
true  stories  of  the  border-women  of  our  country. 
Such  a  contribution  to  our  literature  has  thus  far  been 
made  only  to  a  limited  extent.  The  reason  for  this 
deficiency  will  be  obvious  on  a  moment's  reflection. 
The  true  stories  of  the  pioneer-wives  and  mothers  are 
often  as  interesting  as  any  work  of  fiction,  and  need 
no  embellishment  from  the  imagination  of  a  writer,  be- 
cause they  are  crowded  with  incidents  and  situations 
as  thrilling  as  those  which  form  the  staple  out  of  which 
novels  are  fabricated  ;  love  and  adventure,  hair-breadth 
escapes,  heart-rending  tragedies  on  the  frontier,  arc 
thus  woven  into  a  narrative  of  absorbing  and  pcrma- 


218 


ROMANCE  OF  THE  BORDER. 


^     '11 


I 


nent  interest,  permanent  because  it  is  part  of  the  his- 
tory and  biography  of  America.  Some  of  the  truest 
of  these  stories  are  those  which  are  most  deeply 
fraught  "with  tenderness  and  romance.  What  is  more 
calculated  to  move  the  mind  and  heart  of  man  for  ex- 
ample than  a  story  of  two  lovers  environed  by  some 
deadly  danger,  or  of  separation  and  reunion,  or  a  love 
faithful  unto  death  ? 

Many  years  ago  a  young  pioneer  traveling  across 
the  plains  met  a  lady  to  whom  he  became  attached, 
and  after  a  short  courtship  they  were  united  in  mar- 
riage. A  trip  over  the  plains  in  those  days  was  not 
one  to  be  chosen  for  a  honey-moon  excursion  but  the 
pair  bore  their  labors  and  privations  cheerfully ;  perils 
and  hardships  only  seemed  to  draw  them  closer  to- 
gether, and  they  were  looking  forward  to  a  home  on 
the  Pacific  slope  where  in  plenty  and  repose  they 
would  be  indemnified  for  the  pains  and  fatigues  of  tho 
journey.  But  their  life's  romance  was  destined,  alas ! 
to  a  sudden  and  mournful  end.  While  crossing  one  of 
the  rapid  mountain  streams  their  boat  filled  with  wa- 
ter, and  though  the  young  man  struggled  manfully  to 
gain  the  shore  with  his  bride,  the  rush  of  the  torrent 
bore  them  down  and  they  sank  to  rise  no  more.  An 
hour  later  their  bodies  were  found  locked  together  in 
a  last  embrace.  The  rough  mountaineers  had  not  the 
heart  to  unclasp  that  embrace  but  buried  them  by  the 
side  of  the  river  in  one  grave. 

The  Indian  was  of  course  an  important  factor  in  the 
composition  of  these  border  romances.  He  was  gen- 
erally the  villain  in  the  plot  of  the  story,  and  too  often 
a  successful  villain  whose  wiles  or  open  attacks  were  the 
means  of  separating  two  lovers.     These  tales  have 


^iiPliPHI^ 


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"^ 


THE  BEAUTIFUL  CAPTIVES. 


219 


often  a  tragical  catastrophe,  but  sometimes  the  denoue- 
ment is  a  happy  one,  thanks  to  the  courage  and  con- 
stancy of  the  heroine  or  hero. 

*  Among  the  adventurers  whom  Daniel  Boone  the 
famous  hunter  and  Indian  fighter  of  Kentucky,  de- 
scribes as  having  rc-inforced  his  little  colony  was  a 
young  gentleman  named  Smith,  who  had  been  a  major 
in  the  militia  of  Virginia,  and  possessed  a  full  share  of 
the  gallantry  and  noble  spirit  of  his  native  State.  In 
the  absence  of  Boone  he  was  chosen,  on  account  of  his 
military  rank  and  talent,  to  command  the  rude  citadel 
which  contained  all  the  wealth  of  this  patriarchal  band, 
their  wives,  their  children,  and  their  herds.  It  held 
also  an  object  particularly  dear  to  this  youTg  soldier — 
a  lady,  the  daughter  of  one  of  the  settlers,  to  whom 
he  had  pledged  his  affections.  It  came  to  pass  upon 
u  certain  day  when  a  siege  was  just  over,  tranquillity 
restored,  and  the  employment  of  husbandry  resumed, 
that  this  young  lady,  with  a  lady  companion,  strolled 
out,  as  young  ladies  in  love  are  very  apt  to  do,  along 
the  bank  of  the  Kentucky  River. 

Having  rambled  about  for  some  time  they  espied  a 
canoe  lying  by  the  shore,  and  in  a  frolic  stepped  into 
it,  with  the  determination  of  visiting  a  neighbor  on  the 
opposite  bank.  It  seems  that  they  were  not  so  well 
skilled  in  navigation  as  the  Lady  of  the  Lake  who 
paddled  her  own  canoe  very  dexterously ;  for  instead 
of  gliding  to  the  point  of  destination  they  were  whirled 
about  by  the  stream,  and  at  length  thrown  on  a  sand- 
bar from  w^hich  they  were  obliged  to  wade  to  the  shore. 
Full  of  the  mirth  excited  by  their  wild  adventure  they 
hastily  arranged  their  dresses  and  were  proceeding  to 
climb  the  bank,  when  three  Indians„ rushed  from  a 

♦Potter's  Life  of  Daniel  Boone. 


y 


220 


ROMANCE  OF  THE  BORDER. 


neighboring  covert,  seized  the  fair  wanderers,  and 
forced  them  away.  Their  savage  captors  evincing  no 
sympathy  for  their  distress,  nor  allowing  them  time 
for  rest  or  reflect,  n,  hurried  them  along  during  the 
whole  day  by  rugged  and  thorny  paths.  Their  shoes 
were  worn  off  by  the  rocks,  their  clothes  torn,  and 
their  feet  and  limbs  lacerated  and  stained  with  blood. 
To  heighten  their  misery  one  of  the  savages  began  to 

make  love  to  Miss ,  (the  intended  of  Major  S.) 

and  while  goading  her  along  wit^  a  pointed  stick, 
p^o~mised  in  recompense  for  her  sufferings  to  make  her 
his  sqnaw.  This  at  once  roused  all  the  energies  of  her 
mind  and  called  its  powers  into  action.  In  the  hope  that 
her  friends  would  soon  pursue  them  she  broke  the  twigs 
as  she  passed  along  and  delayed  the  party  as  much  as 
possible  by  tardy  and  blundering  steps.  The  day  and 
the  night  passed,  and  another  day  of  agony  had  nearly 
rolled  over  the  heads  of  these  atllicted  <rirls,  when  their 
conductors  halted  to  cook  a  hasty  repast  of  buffalo 
meat. 

The  ladies  meanwhile  were  soon  missed  from  the 
garrison.  The  natural  courage  and  sagacity  of  Smith 
now  heightened  by  love,  gave  him  the  zings  of  the 
wind  and  the  fierceness  of  the  tiger.  The  light  traces 
of  feminine  feet  led  hhn  to  the  place  of  embarkation ; 
the  canoe  was  traced  to  the  opposite  shore ;  the  deep 
prints  of  the  moccasin  in  the  sand  told  the  rest  of  the 
story. 

The  agonized  Smith,  accompa-^ied  by  a  few  of  his 
best  woodsmen,  pursued  the  spoil-encumbered  foe. 
The  track  once  discovered  thoy  kept  it  with  that  lui- 
erring  sagacity  so  peciriar  to  our  hunters.  The  bended 
grass,   the   disentangled  briars,  and   the  compressed 


s 


i 


1 


'*. 


■%, 


RESCUE  OE  THE  CAPTIV^ES. 


221 


ll. 


shrubs  afforded  tht  jnly,  but  to  them  the  certain  indi- 
cation of  the  route  of  the  enemy.  When  they  had 
sufficiently  ascertained  the  general  course  of  the  re- 
treat of  the  Indians,  Smith  quitted  the  trace,  assuring 
his  companions  that  they  would  fall  in  with  them  at 
the  pass  of  a  certain  stream-head  for  which  he  now 
struck  a  direct  course,  thus  gaining  on  the  foe  who 
had  taken  the  most  difficult  paths. 

Having  arrived  at  the  stream,  they  traced  its  course 
until  they  discovered  the  water  newly  thrown  upon 
the  rocks.  Smit'.i,  leaving  his  party,  now  crept  for- 
ward upon  his  hands  and  knees,  until  he  discovered 
one  of  the  savages  seated  by  a  fire,  and  with  a  deliber- 
ate aim  shot  him  through  the  heart.  The  women 
rushed  towards  their  deliverfir,  and  recognizing  Smith, 
clung  to  him  in  the  transport  of  newly  awakened  joy 
and  gratitude  ;  while  a  second  Indian  sprang  towards 
him  with  his  tomahawk.  Smith,  disengaging  himself 
from  the  ladies,  aimed  a  blow  at  his  antagonist  with 
his  rifle,  which  the  savage  avoided  by  springing  aside, 
but  at  the  same  moment  the  latter  received  a  mortal 
wound  from  another  hand.  The  other  and  only  remain- 
ing Indian  fell  in  attempting  to  escape.  Smith  with 
his  interesting  charge  returned  in  triumph  to  the  fort 
where  iiis  gallantry  no  doubt  was  repaid  by  the  sweet- 
est of  all  rewards. 

Tlie  May  flower,  or  trailing  arbutus,  has  aeen  aptly 
stylei'  our  national  flower.  It  lifts  its  ovveet  face  in 
the  desolate  and  rugged  hillside,  and  flourishes  in  the 
chilly  air  and  earth  of  early  spring.  So  amid  the 
rude  scenes  of  frcntier-life,  love  and  romance  peep 
out,  and  courtship  is  conducted  in  log  cabins  and  even 
in  more  untoward  places. 


222 


ROMANCE  OF  THE  BORDER. 


A  tradition  of  the  early  settlement  of  Auburn,  New 
York,  relates  that  while  Captain  Hardenberg,  the  stout 
young  miller,  was  busy  with  his  sacks  of  grain  in  his 
little  log-mill,  he  was  unexpectedly  assaulted  and  over- 
whelmed with  the  arrows  not  of  the  savages  but  of 
love.  The  sweet  eyes  as  well  as  the  blooming  health 
and  courage  of  the  daughter  of  Roeliffe  Brinkerhoff 
who  had  been  wnt  by  her  father  to  the  mill,  made 
young  Hardenberg  capitulate,  and  during  the  hour 
while  she  was  waiting  for  the  grist  he  managed  thor- 
oughly to  assure  her  of  the  state  of  his  aifections ;  the 
courtship  thus  well  begun  resulted  soon  after  in  a 
wedding. 

The  imagination  of  the  poet  garnering  the  anecdotes 
and  early  traditions  of  the  frontier  around  which  lin- 
gers an  aroma  of  love,  has  clothed  them  with  new  life, 
adorned  them  with  bright  colors,  endowed  them  with 
fresh  and  vernal  perfume  and  then  woven  them  into 
a  wreath  with  the  magic  art  of  poesy.  From  out  of 
a  group  of  stern  features  on  Plymouth  rock,  graven 
with  the  deep  linos  of  austere  and  almost  cruel  duty, 
the  sweet  face  of  Rose  Standish  looks  wlnn'ngly  at  us. 
The  rugged  captain  of  the  Pilgrim  band  wooes  Priscilla 
Mullins,  through  his  friend  John  Alden,  and  finds  too 
late  that  love  does  not  prove  fortunate  when  made  by 
proxy ;  and  Evangeline,  maid,  wife  and  widow  comes 
back  to  us  in  beauty  and  sorrow  from  the  f  tr  Acadian 
border.  Those  roinances  of  our  eastern  country  have 
been  fortunate  in  having  a  poet  to  make  them  immor- 
tal. But  the  West  is  equally  fruitful  in  incidents  which 
furnish  material,  and  only  lack  the  poet  or  novelist  to 
"Work  them  up  into  enduring  form. 

The  western  country  seems  naturally  fitted  in  many 


<  '■  ■ 


^M>» 


-<j^ 


LOVE  AND  ROMANCE. 


22r. 


il 


^^ 


i 


"ways  for  love  and  romance.  In  that  region  the  mind 
is  micr^mped  and  unfettered  by  the  excessive  school- 
ing and  over-training  which  prevails  in  the  older  set- 
tlements of  the  East.  The  heart  beats  more  freely 
and  warmly  when  its  current  is  unchecked  by  conven- 
tionalities. Life  is  more  intense  in  the  West.  The 
transitions  of  life  r.re  more  frequent  and  startUng. 
Both  men  and  things  are  continuijly  changing.  In 
such  a  society  impulse  governs  largely :  the  cooler  and 
more  selfish  faculties  of  man's  nature  are  less  domi- 
nant. When  we  add  to  these  conditions,  the  changes, 
hardships,  and  enforced  separations  of  the  frontier  as 
frequent  concomita  ats,  v»'e  have  exactly  a  state  of  so- 
ciety which  is  frr.itful  in  romantic  incidents — brides 
torn  from  their  husband's  embrace  and  hurried  away ; 
but  restored  as  suddenly  and  strangely ;  tw  o  faithful 
lovers  parted  forever  or  re-united  miraculously ;  and 
thrilling  scenes  in  love's  melodrama  acted  and  i-e-acted 
on  different  stages  but  always  with  startling  effect. 

The  effects  of  the  romantic  incidents  the  lives  of 
our  pioneer  women  are  also  heightened  by  the  extra- 
ordinary freshness  and  ever-changing  scenery  of  ihe 
wilderness.  Nature  there  spreads  out  like  a  mighty 
canvas :  the  forest,  the  mountains,  and  the  prairies 
show  clear  and  distinct  through  the  crystal  air  so  that 
peak  and  tree  and  even  the  tall  blades  of  grass  are 
outlined  with  a  microscopic  nearness.  Over  this  vivid 
Burfacc  bison  are  browsing,  and  antelopes  gambolling ; 
plumed  warriors  flit,  by  on  their  ponies,  as  the  pioneer- 
men  and  women  with  wagons,  oxen  and  horses  are 
moving  westward.  This  is  the  scene  where  love 
springs  spontaneously  out  of  the  close  companionship 
which  danjjer  enforces. 


» 


wm 


I 


224 


ROMANCI   OF  THE  BORDER. 


The  story  of  the  Chase  family  is  an  illustration  of 
the  adage  that  truth  is  often  stranger  than  fiction,  o.nd 
might  readily  furnish  the  groundwork  upon  which  the 
genius  of  some  future  Cooper  could  construct  an  Ameri- 
can romance  of  thrilling  interest. 

The  stage  whereon  this  drama  of  real  life  was  acted 
lay  in  that  rich,  broad  expanse  between  the  Arkansas 
and  the  South  Hlatte  Rivers.  The  time,  1847.  The 
principal  actors  were  the  Chase  family,  consisting  of 
old  Mr.  Chase,  his  wife,  sons,  and  grandsons,  M^ry,  his 
daughter,  LaBont^  and  Kilbuck  two  famous  hunters 
and  mountaineers,  Antoine  a  guide  and  Arapahoe 
Indians. 

The  scene  opens  with  a  view  of  three  white-tilted 
Conestoga  wT.gons  or  "prairie  schooners,"  each  drawn 
by  four  pair  of  oxen  rumbling  along  through  a  plain 
enameled  with  the  verdure  and  many  tinted  flowers  o| 
spring.  The  day  is  drawing  to  its  -^lose,  and  the  rays 
of  the  sinking  sun  throw  a  mellow  ligl't  over  a  waving 
sea  of  vernal  herbage.  The  wagons  are  driven  by  the 
sons  of  Mr.  Chase  and  contain  the  Avomen  and  the 
household  goods  of  the  family.  Behind  the  great 
swaying  "  schooners  "  walk  the  men  with  shouldered 
rifles,  and  a  troup  of  mounted  men  have  just  galloped 
up  to  bid  adieu  to  the  departing  emigrant^.  From 
out  this  group,  the  mild  face  of  Mary  Cluise  bctuns  with 
a  parting  smile  in  response  to  rough  but  kindly  Hirc- 
wells  of  these  her  old  friends  and  neighbors.  The 
last  words  of  warning  and  God-speed  are  spoken  by 
the  mounted  men,  who  gallop  away  and  leave  them 
making  their  first  stage  on  a  journey  which  will  carry 
them  northward  and  westward  more  than  two  tliousand 
miles  from  their  old  home  in  Missouri. 


-J  ,r" 


<' 


4 
it 


mmm 


T 


■i 


^'' 


4r 


^' 


t 


TENDER  REMINISCENCES. 


225 


And  now  the  sun  has  set,  and  still  in  the  twilight 
the  train  moves  on,  stopping  as  the  darkness  falls,  at  a 
rich  bottom,  where  the  loose  cattle,  starting  some  hours 
before  them,  have  been  driven  and  corralled.  The 
oxen  are  unyoked,  the  wagons  drawn  up,  so  as  to 
form  the  sides  of  a  small  square.  A  huge  fire  is  kin- 
dled, the  women  descend  and  prepare  the  evening 
meal,  boiling  great  kettles  of  coffee,  and  baking  com- 
cakes  in  the  embers.  The  whole  company  stretch 
themselves  around  the  fire,  and  having  finished  their 
repast,  address  themselves  to  sweet  sleep,  such  as  tired 
voyagers  over  the  plains  can  so  well  enjoy.  The  men 
of  the  party  are  soon  soundly  slumbering;  but  the 
women,  depressed  with  the  thoughts  that  they  are 
leaving  their  home  and  loved  friends  and  neighbors, 
perhaps  forever,  their  hearts  filled  with  forebodings  of 
danger  and  misfortune,  cast  only  wakeful  eyes  upon 
the  darkened  plain  or  up  to  the  inscrutable  stars  that 
are  shining  with  marvelous  brightness  in  the  azure 
firmament.  Far  into  the  night  they  wake  and  watch, 
silently  weeping  until  nature  is  exhausted,  and  a  sleep, 
troubled  with  sad  dreams,  visits  them. 

With  the  first  light  of  morning  the  camp  is  astir, 
and  as  the  sun  rises,  the  wagons  are  again  rolling 
along  across  the  upland  prairies,  to  strike  the  trail 
leading  to  the  south  fork  of  the  Platte.  Slowly  and 
hardly,  fifteen  miles  each  day,  they  toil  on  over  the 
heavy  soil.  At  night,  while  in  camp,  the  hours  are 
beguiled  by  Antoine,  their  Canadian  guide,  who  tells 
stories  of  wild  life  and  perilous  adventures  among  the 
hunters  and  trappers  who  make  the  prairies  and 
mountains  their  home.  His  descriptions  of  Indian 
fights  and  slaughters,  and  of  the  sufferings  and  privar 
15 


mmmm 


mmm 


1 


226 


ROMANCE  OF  THE  BORDER. 


tions  endured  by  the  hunters  in  their  arduous  life, 
fix  the  attention  of  the  women  of  the  party,  and 
especially  of  Mary  Chase,  who  listens  with  greater 
interest  because  she  remembers  that  such  was  the  life 
led  by  one  very  dear  to  her — one  long  supposed  to  be 
dead,  and  of  whom,  since  his  departure,  fifteen  years 
before,  she  has  heard  not  a  syllable.  Her  imagination 
now  pictures  him  anew,  as  the  most  daring  of  these 
adventurous  hunters,  and  conjures  up  his  figure 
charging  through  the  midst  of  yelling  savages,  or  as 
stretched  on  the  ground,  perishing  of  wounds,  or  of 
ccld  and  famine. 

Among  the  characters  that  figure  in  Antoine's  sto- 
ries is  a  hunter  named  La  Bonte,  made  conspicuous 
by  his  deeds  of  hardihood  and  daring.  At  the  first 
mention  of  his  n^me  Mary's  face  is  suffused  with 
blushes ;  not  that  she  for  a  moment  dreamed  that  it 
could  be  her  long  lost  La  Bonte,  for  she  knows  that 
the  name  is  a  common  one,  but  because  from  associa- 
tions which  still  linger  in  her  memory,  it  recalled  a 
sad  era  in  her  former  life,  to  which  she  could  not 
revert  without  a  strange  mingling  of  pleasure  and 
pain.  She  remembers  the  manly  form  of  La  Bonte 
as  she  first  saw  him,  and  the  love  which  sprang  up 
between  them ;  and  then  the  parting,  with  the  hope  of 
speedy  reunion.  She  remembers  how  two  years 
passed  without  tidings  of  her  lover,  when,  one  bitter 
day,  she  met  a  mountaineer,  just  returned  from  the 
far  West  to  settle  in  his  native  State ;  and,  inquiring 
tremblingly  after  La  Bonte,  he  told  how  he  had  met 
his  death  from  the  Blackfeet  Indians  in  the  wild 
gorges  of  the  Yellowstone  country. 

Now,  on  hearing  once  more  that  name,  a  spring  of 


ir 


(>-■ 


■an 


r 


HMRH 


ir 


fh 


A  STARTLING  COINCIDENCE^ 


227 


sweet  and  bitter  recollections  is  opened  and  a  vague 
hope  is  raised  in  her  breast  that  the  lover  of  her  youth 
is  still  alive.  She  questions  the  Canadian,  "  Who  was 
this  La  Bonte  who  you  say  was  such  a  brave  moun- 
taineer ?  "  Antoine  replies,  -'  He  was  a  fine  fellow — 
strong  as  a  buffalo-bull,  a  dead  shot,  cared  not  a  rush 
for  the  Indians,  left  a  girl  that  he  loved  in  Missouri, 
said  the  girl  did  not  love  him,  and  so  he  followed  the 
trail  to  the  mountains.  He  hasn't  gone  under  yet; 
be  sure  of  that,"  says  the  good  natured  guide,  observ- 
ing the  emotion  which  Mary  showed,  and  suspecting 
that  she  took  a  more  than  ordiiwxy  interest  in  the 
young  hunter. 

As  the  guide  ceased  to  speak,  Mary  turns  away 
and  bursts  into  a  flood  of  tears.  The  mention  of  the 
name  of  one  whom  she  had  long  believed  dead,  and 
the  recital  of  his  praiseworthy  qualities,  awake  the 
strongest  feelings  which  she  had  cherished  towards 
one  whose  loss  she  still  bewails. 

The  scene  now  changes  to  the  camp  of  a  party  of 
hunters  almost  within  rifle-shot  of  the  spot  where  the 
Chase  family  are  sitting  around  their  evening  fire. 
There  are  three  in  this  party :  one  is  Kilbuck,  so 
known  on  the  plains,  another  is  a  stranger  who  has 
chanced  to  join  them,  the  third  is  a  hunter  named  La 
Bonte. 

The  conversation  turning  on  the  party  encamped 
near  them,  the  stranger  remarks  that  their  name  is 
Chase.  La  Bonte  looks  up  a  moment  from  the  lock 
of  his  rifle,  which  he  is  cleaning,  but  either  does  not 
hear,  or,  hearing,  does  not  heed,  for  he  resumes  his  work. 
"  Traveling  alone  to  the  Platte  valley,"  continues  the 
stranger,  "  they'll  lose  their  hair,  sure."     "  I  hope  not," 


mim 


228 


ROMANCE  OF  THE  BORDER. 


rejoins  Kilbuck,  "  for  there's  a  girl  among  them  worth 
more  than  that."  "Where  does  she  come  from, 
stranger,"  inquires  La  Bonte.  "  Down  below  Missouri, 
from  Tennessee,  I  hear."  *'  And  what's  her  name  ?  " 
The  colloquy  is  interrupted  by  the  entrance  into  the 
camp  of  an  Arapahoe  Indian.  The  hunters  address 
him  in  his  own  language.  They  learn  from  him  that 
a  war-party  of  his  people  was  out  on  the  Platte-trail 
to  intercept  the  traders  on  their  return  from  the  North 
Fork.  He  cautions  them  against  crossing  the  divide, 
as  the  braves,  he  says,  are  "a  heap  mad,  and  take 
white  scalp."  The  Indian,  rewarded  for  his  informa' 
tion  with  a  feast  of  buffalo-meat,  leaves  the  camp  anA 
starts  foi«  the  mountains.  The  hunters  pursue  their 
journey  the  next  day,  traveling  leisurely  along,  and 
stopping  where  good  grass  and  abundant  game  ia 
found,  imtil,  one  morning,  they  suddenly  strike  ft 
wheel-track,  which  left  the  creek-bank  and  pursued  a 
course  at  right  angles  to  it  in  the  direction  of  th© 
divide.  Kilbuck  pronounces  it  but  a  few  hours  old, 
and  that  of  three  wagons  drawn  by  oxen.  "  These  are 
the  wagons  of  old  Chase,"  says  the  strange  hunter: 
"they're  going  right  into  the  Rapahoe  trap,"  cries 
Kilbuck.  "  I  knew  the  name  of  Chase  years  ago," 
says  La  Bonte  in  a  low  tone,  "  and  I  should  hate  the 
worst  kind  to  have  mischief  happen  to  any  one  that 
bore  it.  This  trail  is  fresh  as  paint,  and  it  goes  against 
me  to  let  these  simple  critters  help  the  Rapahoes  to 
their  own  hair.  This  child  feels  like  helping  them 
out  of  the  scrape.  What  do  you  say,  old  hos ? "  "I 
think  with  you,  my  boy,"  replies  Kilbuck,  "  and  go  in 
for  following  the  wagon-trail  and  telling  the  poor  crit- 
ters that  there's   danger  ahead  of  them.    "What's 


^yr 


•^if" 


4- 


^  I 


m 


A 


«^ 


4 


SUSPICIOUS  SIGNS. 


229 


your  talk,  stranger  ?  "  "  I'm  with  you,"  answered  the 
latter ;  and  both  follow  quickly  after  La  Bonte,  who 
gallops  away  on  the  trail. 

Returning  now  to  the  Chase  family,  we  see  again 
the  three  white-topped  wagons  rumbling  slowly  over 
the  rolling  prairie  and  towards  the  upland  ridge  of  the 
divide  which  rose  before  them,  studded  with  dwarf 
pines  and  cedar  thickets.  They  are  evidently  travel- 
ing with  caution,  for  the  quick  eye  of  Antoine,  the 
guide,  has  discovered  recent  Indian  signs  upon  the 
trail,  and  with  the  keenners  of  a  mountaineer  he  at 
once  sees  that  it  is  that  of  a  war-party,  for  there  were 
no  horses  with  them  and  after  one  or  two  of  the 
moccasin  tracks  there  was  the  mark  of  a  rope  which 
.  trailed  upon  the  ground.  This  was  enough  to  show 
him  that  the  Indians  were  provided  with  the  usual 
lassoes  of  skin  with  which  to  secure  the  horses  stolen 
on  the  expedition.  ,  The  men  of  the  party  accordingly 
are  all  mounted  and  thoroughly  armed,  the  wagons 
are  moving  in  a  line  abreast,  and  a  sharp  lookout  is 
kept  on  all  sides.  The  women  and  children  are  all 
consigned  to  the  interior  of  the  wagons  and  the  former 
also  hold  guns  in  readiness  to  take  part  in  the  defense 
should  an  attack  be  made.  As  they  move  slowly  on 
their  course  no  Indians  make  their  presence  visible 
and  the  party  are  evidently  losing  their  fears  if  not 
their  caution. 

As  the  shadows  are  lengthening  they  reach  Black 
Horse  Creek,  and  corrall  their  wagons,  kindle  a  lire, 
and  are  preparing  for  the  night,  when  three  or  four 
Indians  suddenly  show  themselves  on  the  bluff  and 
making  friendly  signals  approach  the  camp.  Most  of 
the  men  are  away  attending  to  the  cattle  or  co^ecting 
* 


230 


ROMANCE  OF  TUE  BORDER. 


fuel,  and  only  old  Chase  and  a  grandson  fourteen 
years  of  age  are  in  the  camp.  The  Indians  are  hos- 
pitably received  and  regaled  with  a  smoke,  after 
which  they  gratify  their  curiosity  by  examining  the 
articles  lying  around,  and  among  others  which  takes 
their  fancy  the  pot  boiling  over  the  fire,  with  which 
one  of  them  is  about  very  coolly  to  walk  off,  when  old 
Chase,  snatching  it  from  the  Indian's  hands,  knocks 
him  down.  One  of  his  companions  instantly  begins 
to  draw  the  buckskin  cover  from  his  gun  and  is  about 
to  take  summary  vengeance  for  the  insult  offered  to 
his  companion,  when  Mary  Chase,  courageously  ad- 
vancing, places  her  left  hand  on  the  gun  which  he  is 
in  the  act  of  uncovering  and  with  the  other  points  a 
pistol  at  his  breast. 

Whether  daunted  by  this  bold  act  of  the  girl,  or 
admiring  her  devotion  to  her  father,  the  Indian,  draw- 
ing back  with  a  deep  grunt,  replaces  the  cover  on  his 
piece  and  motioning  to  the  other  Indians  to  be  peace- 
able, shakes  hands  with  old  Chase,  who  all  this  time 
looks  him  steadily  in  the  face. 

The  other  whites  soon  return,  the  supper  is  ready, 
and  all  hands  sit  down  to  the  repavSt.  The  Indians 
then  gather  their  buffalo-robes  about  them  and  quickly 
withdraw.  In  spite  of  their  quiet  demeanor,  Antoine 
says  they  mean  mischief.  Every  precaution  is  there- 
fore taken  against  surprise ;  the  mules  and  horses  are 
hobbled,  the  oxen  only  being  allowed  to  run  at  large ;  a 
guard  is  set  around  the  camp ;  the  fire  is  extinguished 
lest  the  savages  should  aim  by  its  light  at  any  of  the 
party;  and  all  slept  with  rifles  and  pistols  ready  at 
their  side. 

The  night,  however,  passes  quietly  away,  and  notl> 


I 


■■■■■■■HHM 


AN  INSOLENT  DEMAND. 


231 


AT- 


1 


ing  disturbs  the  tranquility  of  the  camp  except  the 
mournful  cry  of  the  prairie  wolf  chasing  the  antelope. 
The  sun  has  now  risen ;  they  are  yoking  the  cattle 
to  the  wagons  and  driving  in  the  mules  and  horses, 
when  a  band  of  Indians  show  themselves  on  the  bluff 
and  descending  it  approach  the  camp  with  an  air  of 
confidence.  They  are  huge  braves,  hideously  streaked 
with  war-paint,  and  hide  the  mahgnant  gleams  that 
shoot  from  their  snaky  eyes  with  assumed  smiles  and 
expressions  of  good  nature. 

Old  Chase,  ignorant  of  Indian  treachery  and  in 
spite  of  the  warnings  of  Antoine,  offering  no  obstruc- 
tion to  their  approach,  has  allowed  them  to  enter  the 
camp.  What  madness !  They  have  divested  them- 
selves of  their  buffalo-robes,  and  appear  naked  to  the 
breech-clout  and  armed  with  bows  and  arrows,  toma- 
hawks, and  scalping  knives.  Six  or  seven  only  come 
in  at  first,  but  others  quickly  follow,  dropping  in  by 
twos  and  threes  until  a  score  or  more  are  collected 
around  the  wagons. 

Their  demeanor,  at  first  friendly,  changes  to  insol- 
ence and  then  to  fierceness.  They  demand  powder 
and  shot,  and  when  they  are  refused  begin  to  brandish 
their  tomahawks.  A  tall  chief,  motioning  to  the  band 
to  keep  back,  now  accosts  Mr.  Chase,  and  through 
Antoine  as  an  interpreter,  informs  him  that  unless  the 
demands  of  his  braves  are  complied  with  he  will  not 
be  responsible  for  the  consequences;  that  they  are 
out  on  the  war-trail  and  their  eyes  red  with  blood  so 
that  they  cannot  distinguish  between  white  man's  and 
Utah's  scalps ;  that  the  party  and  all  their  women  and 
wagons  are  in  the  power  of  the  Indian  braves ;  and 
therefore  that  the  white  chief's  best  plan  will  be  to 


ROMANCE  OF  THE  BORDER. 


I 


make  what  terms  he  can ;  that  all  they  require  is  that 
they  sha,ll  give  up  their  guns  and  ammunition  on  the 
prairie  and  all  their  mules  and  horses,  retaining  only 
the  medicine-buffaloes  (the  oxen)  to  draw  their  wag- 
C'ls.  By  this  time  the  oxen  have  been  yoked  to  the 
iteams  and  the  teamsters  stand  whip  in  hand  ready  for 
the  order  to  start.  Old  Chase  trembles  with  rage  at 
the  insolent  demand.  "Not  a  grain  of  powder  to 
save  my  life,"  he  yells ;  "  put  out  boys  ! "  As  he 
turns  to  mount  his  horse  which  stands  ready  saddled, 
the  Indians  leap  upon  the  wagons  and  others  rush 
against  the  men  who  make  a  brave  fight  in  their 
defence.  Mary,  Vv'ho  sees  her  father  struck  to  the 
ground,  springs  with  a  shrill  cry  to  his  assistance  at 
the  moment  when  a  sovage,  crimson  with  paint  and 
looking  like  a  red  demon,  bestrides  his  prostrate  body, 
brandishing  a  glittering  knife  in  the  air  preparatory 
to  p?unging  it  into  the  old  man's  heart.  All  is  wild 
confusion.  The  whites  are  struggling  heroically  against 
overpowering  numbers.  A  single  volley  of  rifles  is 
heard  and  three  Indians  bite  the  dust.  A  moment 
later  and  the  brave  defenders  are  disarmed  amid  the 
shrieks  pf  the  women  and  the  children  and  the 
triumphant  whoops  of  the  savages. 

Mary,  flying  to  her  father's  rescue,  has  been  over- 
taken by  a  huge  Indian,  who  throws  his  lasso  over  her 
shoulders  and  drags  her  to  the  earth,  then  drawing  his 
scalping-knife  he  is  about  to  tear  the  gory  trophy  from 
her  head.  The  girl,  rising  upon  her  knees,  struggles 
towards  the  spot  where  her  father  lies,  now  bathed  in 
blood.  The  Indian  jerks  the  lariat  violently  and  drags 
her  on  her  face,  and  with  a  wild  yell  rushes  to  com- 
plete the  bloody  work. 


1> 


.mHu^ 


« 


REUNION  OF  THE  LOVERS. 


253 


■^%» 


*• 


At  that  instant  a  yell  as  fierce  as  his  own  is  echoed 
from  the  bluff,  and  looking  up  ho  sees  La  Bonte  charg- 
ing down  the  declivity,  his  long  hair  and  the  fringes 
of  his  garments  waving  in  the  breeze,  his  trusty  rifle 
supported  in  his  right  arm,  and  hard  after  him  Kilbuck 
and  the  stranger  galloping  with  loud  shouts  to  the  scene 
of  action.  As  La  Bonte  races  madly  down  the  side  of 
the  bluff,  he  catches  sight  of  the  girl  as  the  ferocious 
savage  is  dragging  her  over  tho  ground.  A  cry  of 
horror  and  vengeance  escapes  his  lips,  as  driving  his 
spurs  to  the  rowels  into  his  steed  he  bounds  like  an 
arrow  to  the  rescue.  Another  instant  and  he  is  upon 
his  foe;  pushing  the  muzzle  of  his  rifle  against  the 
broad  chest  of  the  Indian  he  pulled  the  trigger,  literally 
blowing  out  the  savage's  heart.  Dropping  his  rifle,  he 
wheels  his  trained  horse  and  drawing  a  pistol  from 
his  belt  he  charges  the  enemy  among  whom  Kilbuck 
axid  the  stranger  are  dealing  death-blows.  The  Indi- 
ans, panic-stricken  by  the  suddenness  of  the  attack, 
turn  and  flee,  leaving  several  of  their  number  dead 
upon  the  field. 

Mary,  with  her  arms  bound  to  her  body  by  the 
lasso,  and  with  her  eyes  closed  to  receive  the  fatal 
stroke,  hears  the  defiant  shout  of  La  Bonte,  and  glanc- 
ing up  between  her  half-opened  eyelids,  sees  the  wild 
figure  of  the  mountaineer  as  he  sends  the  bullet  to  the 
heart  of  her  foe.  When  the  Indians  flee.  La  Bonte, 
the  first  to  run  to  her  aid,  cuts  the  skin-rope,  raises 
her  from  the  ground,  looks  long  and  intently  in  her 
face,  and  sees  his  never-to-be-forgotten  Mary  Chase. 
"  What !  can  it  be  you,  Mary  ?"  he  exclaims,  gazing  at 
the  trembling  maiden,  who  hardly  believes  her  eyes 
as  she  returns  his  gaze  and  recognizes  in  her  deliverer 


mmm 


H»iimv 


234 


ROMANCE  OF  TEE  BORDER. 


her  former  lover.  She  only  soba  and  cUngs  closer  to 
him  in  speechless  gratitude  and  love. 

Turning  from  these  lovers  reunited  so  mlraoulon^ly, 
we  see  stretched  on  the  battle-field  the  two  grandsons 
of  Mr.  Chasj,  fine  lads  of  fourteen  or  fifteen,  who 
after  fighting  like  men  fall  dead  pierced  with  arrows 
and  lances.  Old  Chase  and  his  sons  are  slightly 
wounded,  and  Antoine  shot  through  the  neck  and  half 
scalped.  The  dead  boys  are  laid  tenderly  beneath  the 
prairie-sod,  the  wounds  of  the  others  arc  dressed,  and 
the  Tjllov/ing  morning  the  party  cortinue  the' '  journc^y 
to  the  Platte.  The  three  hunters  guide  and  guard 
them  on  their  way,  Mary  riding  on  horseback  by  the 
side  of  her  lover.   . ,' 

For  many  days  they  pursued  their  journey,  but  wii'i 
feelings  fur  different  from  those  with  which  they  had 
made  iis  earlier  stnges.  Old  Mr.  Chase  marches  on 
doggedly  and  in  silence ;  his  resolution  to  .seek  a  new 
home  on  the  banks  of  the  Columbia  has  been  shaken 
more  by  the  loss  of  his  grandsons,  than  by  the  fatigues 
and  privatioub  incident  to  the  march.  The  unbidden 
tears  often  steal  down  tlie  cl'ceks  of  tbo  women,  who 
cast  mpiiy  a  longing  look  behind  them  towards  the 
southeastern  horizon,  far  beyond  whose  purple  rim 
lay  their  old  home.  The  South  Fork  of  the  Platte 
has  been  passed,  I.aramie  reached,  and  for  a  fortnight 
the  lofty  summits  of  the  mountains  which  overhang 
the  "pass"  to  California  have  been  in  si^ht;  but  v>hcii 
they  strike  the  broad  tr.il  which  would  cond  ict  them 
to  their  promised  land  in  tuo  valley  of  the  Columbia, 
the  par*y  pau?.e,  gaze  fo?  a  moment  steadfastly  at  the 
moiTxcain-summits,  and  then  a«  if  by  a  common  im- 
pulse, the  heads  of  the  horses  and  oxen  are  faced  to 


ir^ 


'  ^^^ 


-h- 


"Wlf^-'l" 


tpPPIM 


IT" 


"^^" 


'"f*^ 


"ROMANCE  OF  THE  FOREST.' 


235 


the  east,  and  men,  women,  and  children  toss  their  hats 
and  bonnets  in  the  air,  hurrahing  lustily  for  home  as 
the  huge  wagons  roll  down  along  the  banks  of  the 
river  Platte.  The  closing  scene  in  this  romantic 
melodrama  was  the  marriage  of  Mary  and  La  Bonte, 
in  Tennessee,  four  months  after  the  rescue  of  the 
Chase  family  from  the  Indians. 

The  following  "romance  of  the  forest"  we  believe 
has  never  before  been  published.  The  substance  of  it 
was  communicated  to  the  writer  by  a  gentleman  who 
received  it  from  his  grandfather,  one  of  the  early  set- 
tlers of  Michigan. 

In  the  year  1762  the  Great  Pontiac,  the  Indian  Na- 
poleon of  the  Northwest,  had  his  headquarters  in  a 
small  secluded  island  at  the  opening  of  Lake  St.  Clair. 
Here  he  organized,  with  wonderful  ability  and  secrecy, 
a  wide-reaching  conspiracy,  having  for  its  object  the 
destruction  of  every  English  garrison  and  settlement 
in  Michigan.  His  envoys,  with  blood-stained  hatchets, 
had  been  despatched  to  the  various  Indian  tribes  of 
the  region,  and  wherever  these  emblem,  jf  butcheiy 
had  beon  accepted  the  savage  hordes  were  gathering, 
and  around  their  bale-fires  in  the  midnight  pantomimes 
of  muvdcr  were  concentrating  their  excitable  natures 
into  a  burning  focus  which  would  light  their  path  to 
carnage  j.nd  rapine. 

Whiio  those  lurid  clouds,  chargid  with  death  and 
destruction,  were  gathering,  unseen  about  the  heads 
of  the  adventurous  pioneers,  who  had  penetrated  that 
beautifu]  region,  a  family  oP  eastern  settlers,  named 
RouKo,  arrived  in  the  territory,  and,  disregarding  the 
admonitions  of  the  officers  in  the  fort  at  Detroit, 
pushed  on  twenty  miles  iurthcr  west  and  planted 


E^r.r.ii'!...   ii^iiwippg^ 


iwmpii^tjiF  mw^ipw 


236 


ROMANCE  OF  THE  BORDER. 


themselves  in  the  heart  of  one  of  those  magnificent 
oak-openings  which  the  Almighty  seems  to  have 
designed  as  parks  and  pleasure-grounds  for  the  sons 
and  daughters  of  the  forest. 

Miss  Anna  Rouse,  the  only  daughter  of  the  family, 
had  been  betrothed  before  her  departure  from  New 
York  State  to  a  young  man  named  James  Philbrick, 
who  had  afterward  gone  to  fight  the  French  and  Indi- 
ans. It  was  understood  that  upon  his  return  he  was 
to  follow  the  Rouse  family  to  Michigan,  where,  upon 
his  arrival,  the  marriage  was  to  take  place. 

In  a  few  months  young  Philbrick  reached  the 
appointed  place,  and  in  the  following  week  married 
Miss  Rouse  in  the  presence  of  a  numerous  assemblage 
of  soldiers  and  settlers,  who  had  come  from  the  mili- 
tary posts  and  the  nearest  plantations  to  join  in  the 
festivities. 

All  was  gladness  and  hilarity ;  the  hospitality  was 
bounteous,  the  company  joyous,  the  bridegroom  brave 
and  manly,  and  the  bride  lovely  as  a  wild  rose.  When 
the  banquet  was  ready  the  guests  trooped  into  the 
room  where  it  was  spread,  and  even  the  sentinels  who 
had  been  posted  beside  the  muskets  in  the  door-yard, 
seeing  no  signs  of  prowling  savages,  had  entered  the 
house  and  were  enjoying  the  feast.  Scarcely  had  they 
abandoned  their  post  when  an  ear-piercing  war-whoop 
silenced  in  a  moment  the  joyous  sound  of  the  revelers. 
The  soldiers  rushed  to  the  door  only  to  be  shot  doAvn. 
A  few  succeeded  in  recovering  their  arms,  and  made  a 
desperate  fight.  Meanwhile  the  savages  battered  down 
the  doors,  and  leaped  in  at  the  windows.  The  bride- 
groom was  shot,  and  left  for  dead,  as  he  was  assisting 
to  conceal  his  bride,  and  a  gigantic  warrior,  seizing  the 


■r 


:  f 


w.ilR)!**'"* '■     " 


■A»^jiuiw;»i'Hi  j;VBijl,|  J  ilH,  :'\,UMim 


mmmmmm 


■f- 


THE  LOST  BRIDE. 


237 


latter,  bore  her  away  into  the  darkness.  After  a  short 
but  terrific  struggle,  the  savages  were  driven  out  of 
the  house,  but  the  defenders  were  so  crippled  by  their 
losses  and  by  the  want  of  arms  which  the  enemy  had 
carried  away,  that  it  was  judged  best  not  to  attempt 
to  pursue  the  Indians,  who  had  disappeared  as  sud- 
denly as  they  came. 

When  the  body  of  the  bridegroom  was  lifted  up  it 
was  discovered  that  his  heart  still  beat,  though  but 
faintly.  Restoratives  were  administered,  and  he  slowly 
came  back  to  life,  and  to  the  sad  consciousness  that 
all  that  could  make  life  happy  to  him  was  gone  for 
ever. 

The  family  soon  after  abandoned  their  new  home 
and  moved  to  Detroit,  owing  to  the  danger  of  fresh 
attacks  from  Pontiac  and  his  confederates.  Years 
rolled  away ;  young  Philbrick,  as  soon  as  he  recovered 
from  his  wounds,  took  part  in  the  stirring  scenes  of 
the  war,  and  strove  to  forget,  in  turmoil  and  excite- 
ment, the  loss  of  his  fair  young  bride.  But  in  vain. 
Her  remembrance  in  the  fray  nerved  his  arm  to  strike, 
and  steadied  his  eye  to  launch  the  bullet  at  the  heart 
of  the  hated  foes  who  had  bereft  him  of  his  dearest 
treasure;  and  in  the  stillness  of  the  night  his  imagin* 
ation  pictured  her,  the  cruel  victim  of  her  barbarous 
captors. 

Peace  came  in  1763,  and  he  then  learned  that  she 
had  been  carried  to  Canada.  He  hastened  down  the 
St.  Lawrence  and  passed  from  settlement  to  settlement, 
but  could  gain  no  tidings  of  her.  After  two  years, 
spent  in  unavailing  search,  he  came  back  a  sad  and 
almost  broken-hearted  man. 

Her  image,  as  she  appeared  when  last  he  saw  her, 


238 


ROMANCE  OF  THE  BORDER. 


all  radiant  in  youth  and  beauty,  haunted  his  waking 
hours,  and  in  his  dreams  she  was  with  him  as  a  visible 
presence.  Months,  years  rolled  away;  he  gave  her 
up  as  dead,  but  he  did  not  forget  his  long-lost  bride. 

One  summer's  day,  while  sitting  in  his  cabin  in 
Michigan,  in  one  of  those  beautiful  natural  parks, 
where  he  had  chosen  his  abode,  he  heard  a  light  step, 
and,  looking  up,  saw  his  bride  standing  before  him, 
beautiful  still,  but  with  a  chastened  beauty  which  told 
of  years  of  separation  and  grief. 

Her  story  was  a  long  one.  When  she  was  borne 
away  from  the  marriage  feast  by  her  savage  captor, 
she  was  seen  by  an  old  squaw,  the  wife  of  a  famous 
chief  who  had  just  lost  her  own  daughter,  and  being 
attracted  by  the  beauty  of  Miss  Rouse,  she  protected 
her  from  violence,  and  final! j'  adopted  her.  Twice  she 
escaped,  but  was  recaptured.  The  old  squaw  after- 
wards took  her  a  thousand  miles  into  the  wilderness, 
and  watched  her  with  the  ferocious  tenderness  that 
the  tigress  shows  for  her  young.  At  length,  after 
nearly  six  years,  her  Indian  mother  died.  She  suc- 
ceeded then  in  making  her  escape,  traveled  four  hun- 
dred miles  on  foot,  reached  the  St.  Lawrence,  and 
after  passing  through  great  perils  and  hardships, 
arrived  at  Detroit.  There  she  soon  found  friends, 
who  relieved  her  wants  and  conveyed  her  to  her  hus- 
band, whom  she  had  remembered  with  fondness  and 
loved  with  constancy  during  all  the  weary  years  of  her 
captivity. 


4- 


I^BI 


I 


^mmm 


mmimf 


^ 


CHAPTER   XI. 

PATHETIC  PASSAGES  OF  PIONEER  LIFE. 

A  HUNDRED  ills  brood  over  the  cabin  in  the 
wilderness.  Some  are  ever-present  j  others  lie 
in  wait,  and  start  forth  at  intervals. 

Labor,  Solitude,  Fear ;  these  are  the  companions  of 
woman  on  the  border :  to  these  come  other  visitants — 
weariness,  and  that  longing,  yearning,  pining  of  the 
heart  which  the  Germans  so  beautifully  term  sehn- 
sucht — hunger,  vigils,  bodily  pain  and  sickness,  the 
biting  cold,  the  drenching  storm,  the  fierce  heat,  with 
Bavage  eyes  of  man  and  beast  glaring  from  the  thicket. 
Then  sorrow  takes  bodily  shape  and  enters  the  house : 
loved  ones  are  borne  away — the  child,  or  the  father, 
or  saddest  of  all,  the  mother;  the  long  struggle  is 
over,  and  the  devoted  woman  of  the  household  lays 
her  wasted  form  beneath  the  grassy  sod  of  the  cabin 
yard. 

Bereavement  is  hard  to  bear  in  even  the  houses 
where  comfort,  ease,  and  luxury  surround  the  occu- 
pants, where  friends  and  kinsfolk  crowd  to  pour  out 
sympathy  and  consolation.  But  what  must  it  be  in 
the  rude  cabin  on  the  lonely  border  ?  The  grave  hol- 
lowed out  in  the  hard  soil  of  the  little  inclosuro,  the 
rough  shell-coffin  hewn  with  tears  from  the  forest  tree, 
the  sorrowing  houseliold  ranged  in  silence  beside  the 
form  which  will  gladden  the  loneliness  of  that  stricken 

(239) 


'sm 


mmmmm 


]■ 


240 


PATHETIC  PAS6'AGES  OF  PIONEER  LIFE. 


r 


; 


family  no  longer,  and  then  the  mourners  turn  away 
and  go  back  to  their  homely  toils. 

If  from  the  time  of  the  landing  we  could  recall  the 
long  procession  of  the  actors  and  the  events  of  border- 
life,  and  pass  them  before  the  eye  in  one  great  moving 
panorama,  how  somber  would  be  the  colors  of  that 
picture  !  All  along  the  grand  march  what  scenes  of 
captivity,  suffering,  bereavement,  sorrow,  and  in  these 
scenes,  woman  the  most  prominent  figure,  for  she  was 
the  constant  actress  in  this  great  drama  of  woe ! 

The  carrying  away  and  the  return  of  captives  in  war 
has  furnished  themes  by  which  poets  and  artists  in  all 
ages  have  moved  the  heart  of  man.  The  breaking  up 
of  homes,  the  violent  separations  of  those  who  ara 
kindred  by  bloody  ;\nd  the  sundering  for  ever  of  family 
ties  were  ordinary  and  every  day  incidents  in  the  bor* 
der-wars  of  our  country :  but  the  frequency  of  such 
occurrences  does  not  detract  from  the  mournful  inter" 
est  with  which  they  are  always  fraught. 

At  the  close  of  the  old  French  and  Indian  War, 
Colonel  Henry  Bouquet  stipulated  with  the  Indian 
tribes  on  the  Ohio  frontier  as  one  of  the  conditions  of 
peace  that  they  should  restore  all  the  captives  which 
they  had  taken.  This  was  agreed  to,  and  on  his  return 
march  he  was  met  by  a  great  company  of  settlers  in 
search  of  their  lost  relatives.  "  Husbands  found  their 
wives  and  parents  their  children,  from  whom  they  had 
been  separated  for  years.  Women  frantic  between 
hope  and  fear,  were  running  iiither  and  thither,  look- 
ing piercingly  into  the  face  of  every  child,  to  find  their 
own,  which,  perhaps,  had  died — and  then  such  shrieks 
of  agony !  Some  of  the  little  captives  shrank  from 
their  own  forgotten  mothers,  and  hid   in  terror  in 


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A  SONG  OF  POWER. 


241 


the  blankets  of  the  squaws  that  had  adopted  them. 
Some  that  had  been  taken  away  young,  had  grown  up 
and  married  Indian  husbands  or  Indian  wives,  and  now 
stood  utterly  bewildered  with  conflicting  emotions. 
A  young  Virginian  had  found  his  wife  ;  but  his  little 
boy,  not  two  years  old  when  captured,  had  been  torn 
from  her,  and  had  been  carried  off,  no  one  knew 
whither.  One  day  a  warrior  came  in,  leading  a  child. 
No  one  seemed  to  own  it.  But  soon  the  mother  knew 
her  offspring  and  screaming  with  joy,  folded  her  son 
to  her  bosom.  An  old  woman  had  lost  her  grand- 
daughter in  the  French  war,  nine  years  before.  All 
her  other  relatives  had  died  under  the  knife.  Search- 
ing, with  trembling  eagerness,  in  each  face,  she  at  last 
recognized  the  altered  features  of  her  child.  But  the 
girl  who  had  forgotten  her  native  tongue,  returned  no 
answer,  and  made  no  sign.  The  old  woman  groaned, 
wept,  and  complained  bitterly,  that  the  daughter  she 
had  so  often  sung  to  sleep  on  her  knees,  had  forgotten 
her  in  her  old  age.  Soldiers  and  officers  were  alike 
overcome.  -  '  Sing,'  whispered  Bouquet,  *  sing  the 
song  you  used  to  sing.'  As  the  low,  trembling  tones 
began  to  ascend,  the  wild  girl  gave  one  sudden  start, 
then  listening  for  a  moment  longer,  her  frame  shaking 
like  an  ague,  she  burst  into  a  passionate  flood  of  tears. 
That  was  sufficient.  She  was  the  lost  child.  All  else 
had  been  effaced  from  her  memory,  but  the  music  of 
the  nursery-song.  During  her  captivity  she  had  heard 
it  in  her  dreams." 

Another  story  of  the  same  character  is  that  of  Fran- 
ces Slocum,  the  "Lost  child  of  Wyoming,"  which 
though  perhaps  familiar  to  some  of  our  readers,  will 
bear  repeating. 


ammmam 


242 


PATHETIC  PASSAGES  OF  PIONEER  LIFE. 


*  In  the  time  of  the  Revolution  the  house  of  Mr.  SIo- 
cum  in  the  Wyoming  valley,  was  attacked  by  a  party 
of  Delawares.  The  inmates  of  the  house,  at  the  mo- 
ment of  the  surprise,  were  Mrs.  Slocum  and  four  young 
children,  the  eldest  of  whom  was  a  son  aged  thirteen, 
the  second,  a  daughter  aged  nine,  the  third,  Frances 
Slocum,  aged  five,  and  a  little  son  aged  two  and  a 
haK. 

The  girl,  aged  nine  years  old,  appears  to  have  had 
the  most  presence  of  mind,  for  while  the  mother  ran 
into  a  copse  of  wood  near  by,  and  Frances  attempted 
to  secrete  herself  behind  a  staircase,  the  former  seized 
her  little  brother,  the  youngest  above  mentioned,  and 
ran  off  in  the  direction  of  the  fort.  True  she  could 
not  make  rapid  progress,  for  she  clung  to  the  chi.  >,  and 
not  even  the  pursuit  of  the  savages  could  induce  hei 
to  drop  her  charge.  The  Indians  did  not  pursue  hex 
far,  and  laughed  heartily  at  the  panic  of  the  little  girlj 
while  they  could  not  but  admire  her  resolution.  Al- 
lowing her  to  make  her  escape,  they  returned  to  the 
house,  and  after  helping  themselves  to  such  articles  as 
they  chose,  prepared  to  depart. 

The  mother  seems  to  have  been  unobserved  by 
them,  although,  with  a  yearning  bosom,  she  had  30  dis- 
posed of  herself  that  while  she  was  screened  from 
observation  she  could  notice  all  that  occurred.  But 
judge  of  her  feelings  at  the  moment  when  they  were 
about  to  depait,  as  she  saw  her  little  Frances  taken 
from  her  hiding  place,  and  preparations  made  to  carry 
her  away  into  captivity.  The  sight  was  too  much  for 
maternal  tenderness  to  endure.  Rushing  from  her 
place  of  concealment,  she  threw  herself  upon  her 
knees  at  the  feet  of  the  captors,  and  with  the  most 


T 

t 


'l 


t 


THE  LOST  CHILD. 


243 


earnest  entreaties  pleaded  for  the  restoration  of  the 
child.  But  their  bosoms  were  made  of  sterner  stuff 
than  to  yield  even  to  the  most  eloquent  and  affection- 
ate entreaties  of  a  mother,  and  with  characteristic  stoi- 
cism they  prepared  to  depart.  Deaf  alike  to  the  cries 
of  the  mother,  and  the  shrieks  of  the  child,  Frances 
was  slung  over  the  shoulder  of  a  stalwart  Indian  with 
as  much  indifference  as  though  she  were  a  slaughtered 
fawn. 

The  long,  lingering  look  which  the  mother  gave  to 
her  child,  as  her  captors  disappeared  in  the  forest, 
was  the  last  glimpse  of  her  sweet  features  that  she 
ever  had.  But  the  vision  was  for  many  a  long  year 
ever  present  to  her  fancy.  As  the  Indian  threw  the 
child  over  his  shoulder,  her  hair  fell  over  her  face,  and 
the  mother  could  never  forget  how  the  tears  streamed 
down  her  cheeks,  when  she  brushed  it  away  as  if  to 
catch  a  last  sad  look  of  the  mother  from  whom,  her 
little  arms  outstretched,  she  implored  assistance  in 
vain. 

These  events  cast  a  shadow  over  the  remaining 
years  of  Mrs.  Slocum.  She  lived  to  see  many  bright 
and  sunny  days  in  that  beautiful  valley — bright  and 
sunny,  alas !  to  her  no  longer.  She  mourned  for  the 
lost  one,  of  whom  no  tidings,  at  least  during  her 
pilgrimage,  could  be  obtained.  After  her  sons  grew 
up,  the  youngest  of  whom,  by  the  way,  was  born  but 
a  few  months  subsequent  to  the  events  already  nar- 
rated, obedient  to  the  charge  of  their  mother,  the 
most  unwearied  efforts  were  made  to  ascertain  what 
had  been  the  fate  of  the  lost  sister.  The  forest 
between  the  Susquehanna  and  the  Great  Lakes,  and 
even  the  most  distjint  wilds  of  Canada,  were  traversed 


■'X 


I 


u 


T 


244 


PATHETIC  PASSAGES  OF  PIONEER  LIFE. 


by  the  brothers  in  vain,  nor  could  any  information 
respecting  her  be  derived  from  the  Indians.  Once, 
indeed,  during  an  excursion  of  one  of  the  brothers 
into  the  vast  wilds  of  the  West,  a  white  woman,  long 
ago  captive,  came  to  him  in  the  hopes  of  finding  a 
brother;  but  after  many  anxious  efforts  to  discover 
evidences  of  relationship,  the  failure  was  as  decisive 
as  it  was  mutually  sad. 

There  was  yet  another  kindred  occurrence,  still  more 
painful.  One  of  the  many  hapless  female  captives 
in  the  Indian  country  becoming  acquainted  with  the 
inquiries  prosecuted  by  the  Slocum  family,  presented 
herself  to  Mrs.  Slocum,  trusting  that  in  her  she  might 
find  her  long  lost  mother.  Mrs.  Slocum  was  touched 
by  her  appearance,  and  fain  would  have  claimed  her. 
She  led  the  stranger  about  the  house  and  yards  to  sea 
if  there  were  any  recollections  by  which  she  could  ba 
identified  as  her  own  lost  one.  But  there  was  nothing 
written  upon  the  pages  of  memory  to  warrant  the 
desired  conclusion,  and  the  hapless  captive  returned 
in  bitter  disappointment  to  her  forest  home.  In  pro» 
cess  of  time  these  efforts  were  all  relinquished  as 
hopeless.  The  lost  Frances  might  have  fallen  beneath 
the  tomahawk  or  might  have  proved  too  tender  a 
flower  for  transplantation  into  the  wilderness.  Con- 
jecture was  baffled,  and  the  mother,  with  a  sad  heart, 
sank  into  the  grave,  as  did  also  the  father,  believing 
with  the  Hebrew  patriarch  that  the  "  child  was  not." 

Long  years  passed  away  and  the  memory  of  little 
Frances  was  forgotten,  save  by  two  brothers  and  a 
sister,  who,  though  advanced  in  the  vale  of  life,  could 
not  forget  the  family  tradition  of  the  lost  one.  Indeed 
it  had  been  the  dying  charge  of  their  mother  that 


T 


t 


ALAS!    now  CHANGED!  245 

they  must  never  relinquish  their  exertions  to  discover 
Frances. 

Fifty  years  and  more  had  passed  since  the  disap- 
pearance of  little  Frances,  when  news  came  to  the 
surviving  members  of  the  bereaved  family  that  she 
was  still  alive.  She  had  been  adopted  into  the  tribe 
of  the  Miami  Indians,  and  was  passing  her  days  as  a 
squaw  in  the  lodges  of  that  people. 

The  two  surviving  brothers  and  their  sister  under- 
took a  journey  to  see,  and  if  possible,  to  reclaim,  tl)e 
long  lost  Frances.  Accompanied  by  an  interpreter 
whom  they  had  engaged  in  the  Indian  country,  they 
reached  at  last  the  designated  place  and  found  their 
Bister.  But  alas !  how  changed  !  Instead  of  the  fair- 
haired  and  laughing  girl,  the  picture  yet  living  in  their 
imagination,  they  found  her  an  aged  and  thorough- 
bred squaw  in  everything  but  complexion.  She  was 
sitting  when  they  entered  her  lodge,  composed  of  two 
large  log-houses  connected  by  a  shed,  with  her  two 
daughters,  the  one  about  twenty-three  years  old,  and 
the  other  about  thirty-three,  and  three  or  four  pretty 
grandchildren.  The  closing  hours  of  the  journey  had 
been  made  in  perfect  silence,  deep  thoughts  struggling 
in  the  bosoms  of  all.  On  entering  the  lodge,  the  first 
exclamation  of  one  of  the  brothers  was, — "  Oh,  God ! 
is  that  my  sister!"  A  moment  afterward,  and  the 
sight  of  her  thumb,  disfigured  m  childhood,  left  no 
doubt  as  to  her  identity.  The  following  colloquy, 
conducted  through  the  interpreter,  ensued : 

"  What  was  your  name  when  a  child  ?  " 

**  I  do  not  recollect." 

"  "What  do  you  remember  ? " 


(j'SttetrTf'S: 


mm 


m 


p 


246 


PATir^TIC  PASSAGES  OF  PIONEER  LIFE. 


"  My  father,  my  motbei-j  the  long  river,  the  stair- 
case uoder  which  I  hid  when  they  came." 

"How  came  yon  to  lose  your  thumb-nail  ?  " 

"My  brother  liammered  it  off  a  long  time  ago, 
when  I  was  a  very  little  girl  at  my  fiither's  house." 

"  Do  you  know  how  many  brothel's  and  sisters  yoii 
had?" 

She  then  mentioned  them,  and  in  the  order  cf  their 


ages. 


"Would  yoii  know  your  name  if  you  should  hear  it 
repeated  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  long  time  since,  and  perhaps  I  should  not." 

"  Was  it  Frances  ?  " 

At  once  a  smile  played  npon  her  features,  and  for  a 
inomeiit  there  seemed  to  pass  over  the  face  what 
might  be  called  the  shadow  of  an  emotion,  as  she 
answered,  "  Yes.'* 

Other  reminiscences  wore  awakened,  and  the  recog- 
nition was  complete.  But  how  different  were  the 
emotions  of  the  parties!  The  brothers  paced  the 
lodge  in  agitation.  The  civilized  sister  was  in  tears. 
The  other,  obedient  to  the  affected  stoicism  of  her 
adopted  ra'je,  was  as  cold,  unmoved,  and  passionless  as 
niarlile. 

The  brotliers  and  sister  retiu-ned  unable,  after 
urgent  and  Icving  entreaties,  to  w^in  back  their  tawny 
sister  from  her  wildi,.  Her  Indian  husband  and  chil- 
dren were  there ;  tiiore  was  the  free,  open  forest,  and 
she  clung  to  thes;^ ;  and  yet  tlie  love  of  her  kinsfolk 
for  her,  and  her's  for  them,  was  not  quenched. 

Transporting  ourselves  far  from  the  beautiful  valley 
of  Wyoming,  where  the  grief-stricken  mother  will 
"wakc  never  more  to  the  consciousness  of  the  loss  of 


I 


^.. 


■X 


rm««»m^BaM»«r.^a^^^««^■^^!»»«1«^^«^  . 


wm 


m 


wmmm 


p 


A  SAD  PICTURE. 


24t 


her  sweet  Frances,  we  stand  on  the  prairies  of  Kansas. 
The  time  is  1856.  One  of  the  settlers  who,  with  his 
wife,  was  seeking  to  build  up  a  community  in  the  tur- 
moil, which  then  made  that  beautiful  region  such  dan- 
gerous ground,  has  met  his  death  at  the  hands  of  a 
rival  faction.  We  enter  the  widow's  desolated  home. 
A  shelter  rather  than  a  house,  with  but  two  wretched 
rooms,  it  stands  alone  upon  the  prairie.  The  darkness 
of  a  stormy  winter's  evening  was  gathering  over  the 
snow-clad  slopes  of  the  wide,  bare  prairie,  as,  in  com- 
pany with  a  sympathizing  friend,  we  enter  that  lonely 
dwelling. 

In  the  scantily-furnished  apartment  into  which  we 
are  shown,  two  or  three  women  and  as  many  children 
are  crowding  around  a  stove,  for  the  night  is  bitter 
cold,  and  even  the  largo  wood-fire  scarcely  heated  a 
space  so  thinly  walled.  Behind  a  heavy  pine  table,  on 
which  stands  a  flickering  tallow-candle,  and  leaning 
against  a  half-curtained  window  on  which  the  sleet 
and  winter's  blast  beat  drearily,  sits  a  woman  of  some 
forty  years  of  age,  clad  in  a  dress  of  dark,  coarse 
3tuff,  resting  her  head  on  her  hand,  and  seeming 
unmindful  of  all  about  her. 

She  was  the  widow  of  Thomas  W.  Barber,  one  of 
the  victims  of  the  Kansas  war.  The  attenuated  hand 
supporting  the  aching  head,  and  half  shielding  the 
toar-dinuned  eyes,  the  silent  drops  trickling  down  the 
wasted  chocks,  told  but  too  well  the  sad  story. 

"  Thoy  have  loft  mo,"  she  cried,  "  a  poor,  forsalcen 
creature,  to  mourn  all  my  days !  Oli,  my  husband,  my 
husbiuid,  Ihoy  have  taken  from  me  all  that  I  hold  dear ! 
one  that  1  loved  bettor  than  I  loved  my  own  life !  " 

Thomas  W.  Barber  was  a  careful  and  painstaking 


I 


I 


H 


248 


PATHETIC  PASSAGES  OF  PIONEER  LIFE. 


farmer,  a  kind  neighbor,  and  an  inoffensive,  amiable 
man.  His  "  untimely  taking  off "  was  indeed  a  sad 
loss  to  the  community  at  large,  but  how  much  more 
to  his  wife!  She  had  loved  him  with  a  love  that 
amounted  to  idolatry.  When  he  was  returning  from 
his  daily  toil  she  would  go  forth  to  meet  him.  When 
absent  from  home,  if  his  stay  was  prolonged,  she 
would  pass  the  whole  night  in  tears;  and  when  ill, 
she  would  hang  over  his  bed  like  a  mother  over  her 
child.  With  a  presentiment  of  evil,  when  he  left  his 
home  for  the  last  time,  after  exhausting  every  argu- 
ment to  prevent  him  from  going,  she  had  said  to  him, 
"  Oh,  Thomas !  if  you  should  be  shot,  I  shall  be  left 
all  alone,  with  no  child  and  nothing  in  the  wide  world 
to  fill  your  place  !  "     This  was  their  last  parting. 

The  intelligence  of  his  death  was  kept  in  mercy 
from  her,  through  the  kindness  of  friends,  who  hoped 
to  break  it  to  her  gentl}\  This  thoughtful  and  sym- 
2)athetic  purpose  was  marred  by  the  unthinking  act  of 
a  young  man,  who  had  been  sent  with  a  carriage  to 
convey  her  to  the  hotel  where  her  husband's  body  lay. 
As  he  rode  up  he  shouted, "  Thomas  Barber  is  killed !  " 
His  widow  half-caught  the  dreadful  words,  and  rushing 
to  the  door  cried,  "Oh,  God!  What  do  I  hear?" 
Seeing  the  mournf\il  and  sympathetic  faces  of  the  by- 
standers, she  knew  the  truth  and  filled  the  house  with 
her  shrieks.  When  they  brought  her  into  the  apart- 
ment where  her  husband  Liy,  she  threw  herself  upon 
his  corpse,  and  kissing  the  dead  man's  face,  caUed 
down  imprecations  on  the  heads  of  those  who  had 
bereaved  her  of  all  she  held  dear. 

The  prairies  of  the  great  West  roseml)le  ilie  ocean 
in  more  respects  than  in  their  level  vastness,  and  the 


PRAIRIE  VOYAGERS. 


249 


•^r 


travelers  who  pass  over  them  are  like  mariners  who 
guide  themselves  only  by  the  constellations  and  the 
great  luminaries  of  heaven.  The  trail  of  the  emigrant, 
like  the  track  of  the  ship,  is  often  uncrossed  for  days 
by  others  who  are  voyaging  over  this  mighty  expanse. 
Distance  becomes  delusive,  and  after  journeying  for 
days  and  failing  to  reach  the  foot-hills  of  the  moun- 
tains, whose  peaks  have  shone  to  his  eyes  in  so  many 
morning  suns,  the  tired  emigrant  is  tempted  by  the 
abounding  richness  of  the  country  to  pause.  He  is 
one  hundred  miles  from  the  nearest  settlement.  Be- 
side a  stream  he  builds  his  cabin.  He  is  like  a 
voyager  whose  ship  has  been  burned,  leaving  him  in  a 
strange  land  which  he  must  conquer  or  die. 

Sucli  was  the  situation  of  that  household  on  the 
prairie  of  Illinois,  concerning  whom  is  told  a  story  full 
of  mournful  pathos.  We  should  note,  in  passing  on 
to  our  story,  one  of  the  dangers  to  which  prairie- 
dwellers  are  exposed.  They  live  two  or  three  m(  nths 
every  year  in  a  magazine  of  combustibles.  One  of  the 
pe(  aliarities  of  the  climate  in  those  regions  is  the  dry- 
ness of  its  summers  and  autumns.  A  drought  often 
commenccH  in  August  which,  with  the  exception  of  a 
few  showers  towards  the  close  of  that  month,  contin- 
ues, with  little  interruption,  throughout  the  full  season. 
The  immense  mass  of  vegetation  with  which  the  fer- 
tile soil  loads  itself  during  the  summer  is  suddenly 
withered,  and  the  whole  earth  is  covered  with  com- 
bustible materials.  A  single  spark  of  fire  falling 
nnywhorc  upon  these  plains  at  such  a  time,  instantly 
kindles  a  blazo  that  spreads  on  every  side,  and  eonlln- 
ues  its  destructive  course  as  long  as  it  limls  fuel,  these 


r 


i' 

Kl  'I 


I 


250 


PATHETIC  PASSAGES  OF  PIONEER  LIFE. 


fires  sweeping  on  with  a  rapidity  which  renders  it 
hazardous  even  to  fly  before  them. 

The  flames  often  extend  across  a  wide  prairie  and 
advance  in  a  long  line ;  no  sight  can  be  more  sublime 
than  to  behold  at  night  a  stream  of  fire  several  miles 
in  breadth  advancing  across  these  plains,  leaving  behind 
it  a  black  cloud  of  smoke,  and  throwing  before  it  a 
vivid  glare  which  lights  iip  the  whole  landscape  with 
the  brilliancy  of  noonday.  A  roaring  and  crackling 
sound  is  heard  like  the  rushing  of  the  hurricane ;  the 
flame,  which,  in  general,  rises  to  the  height  of  about 
twenty  feet,  is  seen  sinking  and  darting  upward  in 
spires  precisely  as  the  waves  dash  against  each  other, 
and  as  the  spray  flies  up  into  the  air;  the  whole 
appearance  is  often  that  of  a  boiling  and  flaming  sea 
violently  agitated.  Woe  to  the  farmer  whose  ripe 
corn-field  extends  into  the  prairie,  and  who  has  care- 
lessly suffered  the  tall  grass  to  grow  in  contact  with 
his  fences;  the  whole  labor  of  a  year  is  swept  away  in 
a  few  hours. 

More  than  sixty  years  since,  and  before  the  beauti- 
ful wild  gardens  of  Illinois  had  been  tilled  by  the  hand 
of  the  white  man,  an  emigrant  Avith  his  family  came 
thither  from  the  .|]ast  in  search  of  a  spot  whereon  to 
make  his  home.  One  bright  spring  day  his  white- 
topj)ed  wagon  entered  a  prairie  richer  in  its  verdure 
and  more  brilliant  in  its  flowers,  than  any  that  had 
yet  met  his  eyes.  At  night-fall  it  halted  beside  a 
clump  of  trees  not  far  from  a  creek.  On  this  site  a 
log-cabin  soon  rose  and  sent  its  smoke  curling  througii 
the  overhanging  boughs. 

The  only  neighbors  of  the  pioneers  wero  the  ram- 


bling Indians. 


M' 


Their  habitation  was  the  center  of  a 


mm 


A  MODEL  HOUSEWIFE. 


251 


vast  circle  not  dwelt  in,  and  rarely  even  crossed  by 
white  settlers  ;  oxen,  cows,  and  a  dog  were  their  only 
domest"  animals.  For  many  months  after  their  cabin 
was  built  they  depended  on  wild  game  and  fruits  for 
subsistence ;  the  rifle  of  the  father,  and  traps  sot  by 
the  boys,  brought  them  an  abundant  supply  of  meat. 
The  wife  and  mother  wrought  patiently  for  those  she 
loved.  Her  busy  hands  kept  a  well-ordered  house  by 
day,  and  at  night  she  plied  the  needle  to  repair  the 
wardrobe  of  her  little  household  band.  It  was  already 
growing  scanty,  and  materials  to  replace  it  could  only 
be  procured  at  a  distance,  and  means  to  procure  it 
were  limited.  Patching  and  darning  until  their  gar- 
ments were  beyond  repair,  she  then  supplied  their 
place  with  skins  stripped  from  the  deer  which  the  fa- 
ther had  shot.  Far  into  the  night,  by  the  flickering 
light  of  a  single  candle,  this  gentle  housewife  plied 
"her  busy  care,"  while  her  husband,  worn  out  with 
his  day's  work,  and  her  children,  tired  by  their  ram- 
bles, were  slumbering  in  the  single  chamb<;r  of  the 
cabin. 

October  came,  and  a  journey  to  the  nearest  settle- 
ment for  winter  goods  and  stores,  must  be  made.  After 
due  preparation  the  father  and  his  eldest  son  started 
in  the  emigrant  wagon,  and  expected  to  bo  absent 
many  da^s,  during  which  the  mother  and  her  children, 
with  only  the  dog  for  their  protection,  looked  hourly 
forth  upon  the  now  frost-embrowned  prairie,  and  fondly 
hoped  for  their  return. 

Day  after  day  passed,  and  no  sign  of  life  was  visible 
upon  the  plain  save  the  deer  bounding  over  the  sere 
horhiige,  or  the  wolf  l()])ing  stealthily  against  the  wind 
wiiich  bore  the  eceiit  of  his  prey.    A  rising  haze  be* 


!  ' 


252 


PATHETIC  PASSAGES  OF  PIONEER  LIFE. 


gan  to  envelope  the  landscape,  betokening  the  ap- 
proach of  the  Indian  summer, 

"  The  melancholy  days  had  come, 
'    The  saddest  of  the  year," 

and  the  desolation  of  nature  found  an  answering  mood 
in  the  soul  of  that  lone  woman.  One  day  she  was 
visited  by  a  party  of  Indian  warriors,  and  from  them 
she  learned  that  there  was  a  war  between  the  tribes 
through  whose  country  the  journey  of  her  husband 
lay.  A  boding  fear  for  his  safety  took  possession  of 
her,  and  after  the  warriors  had  partaken  of  her  hospi- 
tality and  departed,  and  night  came,  she  laid  her  little 
ones  in  their  bed,  and  sat  for  hours  on  the  threshold 
of  the  cabin  door,  looking  out  through  the  darkness 
and  praying  silently  for  the  return  of  her  loved  ones. 
The  Avind  was  rising  and  driving  across  the  sky  black 
masses  of  clouds  which  looked  like  misshapen  specters 
of  evil.  The  blast  whistled  through  the  leafless  trees 
and  howled  round  the  cabin.  Hours  passed,  and  still 
the  sorrowful  wife  and  mother  sat  gazing  into  the 
gkK>ni  as  if  her  eyes  would  pierce  it  and  lighten  on 
i\\Q  wished-for  object. 

But  what  is  that  strange  light  which  far  to  the  north 
gleams  on  the  blackened  ■A^y  ?  It  was  not  tlie  light- 
ning's fliish,  for  it  was  a  steady  brightening  glow. 
It  was  not  the  weird  Hash  of  the  aiux)ra  borealis,  but 
a  iwider  and  moix?  lurid  sheen ;  nor  was  it  the  har- 
binger of  the  rising  sun  which  lit  that  northern  sky. 
From  a  tinge  it  brightens  to  a  gleam,  and  deepened  at 
last  into  a  broad  glare.  That  lonely  heart  was  over- 
whelmed with  the  dreadful  truth.  Tlie  prairie  Is  oH 
fire !     Often  had  they  talked  of  prairie  tires  as  a  spec- 


mmmmmmmmm 


THE  PRAIRIE  ON  FIRE! 


253 


^l 


tacle  of  grandeur.  But  never  had  she  dreamed  of 
the  red  demon  as  an  enemy  to  be  encountered  in 
that  dreadful  sohtude. 

Her  heart  sank  within  her  as  she  saw  the  danger 
leaping  toward  her  like  some  fiery  and  maddened 
race-horse.  Was  there  no  escape  ?  Her  children  were 
sweetly  sleeping,  and  the  faithful  dog,  her  only  guar- 
dian, was  gazing  as  if  with  mute  sympathy  into  her  face. 
Within  an  hour  she  calculates  the  conflagration  would 
be  at  her  very  door.  All  around  her  is  one  dry  ocean 
of  combustibles.  She  cannot  reach  the  tree-tops,  and 
if  she  could,  to  cling  there  would  be  impossible  amid 
those  towering  flames.  The  elements  seemed  to  grow 
madder  as  the  fire  approached ;  fiercer  blew  the  blast, 
intermitting  for  a  moment  only  to  gather  fresh  po- 
tency and  mingle  its  own  strength  with  that  of  the 
flames.  She  still  had  a  faint  hope  that  a  creek  a  few 
miles  away  would  be  a  barrier  over  which  the  blaze 
could  not  leap.  She  saw  by  the  broad  light  which 
made  even  the  distant  prairie  like  noonday,  the  tops 
of  the  trees  that  fringed  the  creek  but  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, and  then  they  were  swallowed  up  in  that  crim- 
son furnace.  Alas !  the  stream  had  been  crossed  by 
the  resistless  flames,  and  her  last  hope  died  away. 

Bewildered  and  half  stupefied  by  the  terrors  of  her 
situation,  she  had  not  yet  wakened  her  children.  But 
now  no  time  was  to  be  lost.  Already  in  imagination 
she  felt  the  hot  breath  of  her  relentless  foe.  It  was 
with  much  difficulty  that  she  awoke  them  and  aroused 
tluMM  to  a  sense  of  their  awful  danger.  Hastily  diess- 
ing  them  she  encircled  them  in  her  arms  and  kissed 
and  fondled  them  as  if  for  a  last  farewell.  Now  for  the 
first  tiiuesjie  mist,ed  the  dog,  the  faitliful  companion 


1 


*■' 


254  PATHETIC  PASSAGES  OF  PIONEER  LIEE. 

and  guardian  of  her  solitude,  and  on  whose  aid  she 
still  counted  in  the  hour  of  supreme  peril.  She  called 
him  loudly,  but  in  vain.  Turning  her  face  northward 
she  saw  one  unbroken  line  of  flame  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach,  and  forcing  its  way  towards  her  like  an 
infuriated  demon,  roaring,  crackling,  sending  up  col- 
umns of  dun-colored  smoke  as  it  tore  along  over  the 
plain.  A  few  minutes  more  and  her  fate  would  be 
decided.  Falling  on  her  knees  she  poured  out  her 
heart  in  prayer,  supplicating  for  mercy  and  commend- 
ing herself  and  her  helpless  babes  to  Almighty  God 
As  she  rose  calmed  and  stayed  by  that  fervent  sup- 
plication a  low  wistful  bark  fell  on  her  ear;  the  dog 
came  bounding  to  her  side ;  seizing  her  by  the  dress 
as  if  he  would  drag  her  from  the  spot,  he  leaped  away 
from  her,  barking  and  whining,  looking  back  towards 
her  as  he  ran.  Following  him  a  few  steps  and  seeing 
nothing,  she  returned  and  resumed  her  seat,  awaiting 
death  beside  her  children. 

Again  the  dog  returned,  pawing,  whining,  howling, 
and  trying  in  every  way  to  attract  her  attention. 
What  could  he  mean  ?  Then  for  the  first  time  flashed 
upon  her  the  thought  which  had  already  occurred 
to  the  sagacious  instinct  of  the  dumb  brute !  The 
ploughed  field !  Yes,  there  alone  was  hope  of  safety  ! 
Clasping  the  two  youngest  children  with  one  arm  she 
almost  dragged  the  eldest  boy  as  she  fled  along  the 
trodden  path,  the  dog  going  before  them  showing 
every  token  of  delight.  The  fire  was  at  their  heels, 
and  its  hot  breath  almost  scorched  their  clothes  as 
they  ran.  They  gained  the  herbless  ploughed  field 
and  took  their  station  in  its  center  just  as  the  flames 
darted  round  on  each  side  of  them. 


• 


^• 


A  SAD  AWAKENING. 


255 


The  exhausted  mother,  faint  with  the  sudden  deliv- 
erance, dropped  on  the  ground  among  her  helpless 
babes.     Father  of  mercies !  what  an  escape  ! 

In  a  few  moments  the  flames  attacked  the  haystack, 
which  was  but  a  morsel  to  its  fury,  and  then  seizing 
the  house  devoured  it  more  slowly,  while  the  great 
volume  of  the  fire  swept  around  over  the  plain.  Long 
did  the  light  of  the  burning  home  blight  the  eye  of 
the  lone  woman  after  the  flames  had  done  their  worst 
on  the  prairie  around  her  and  gone  on  bearing  ruin 
and  devastation  to  the  southern  plains  and  groves. 

The  vigils  and  the  terrors  of  that  fearful  night 
wrought  their  work  on  the  lonely  woman,  and  she 
sank  into  a  trance-like  slumber  upon  the  naked  earth, 
with  her  babes  nestling  in  her  lap  and  the  dog,  her 
noble  guardian,  crouching  at  her  feet.  She  awoke 
with  the  first  light  of  morning  to  the  terrible  realities 
from  which  for  a  few  brief  hours  she  had  had  a  blessed 
oblivion.  She  arose  as  from  a  dream  and  cast  a  dazed 
look  southward  over  a  charred  and  blackened  expanse 
stretching  to  the  horizon,  over  which  the  smoke  was 
hanging  like  a  pall.  Turning  away,  stunned  by  the 
fearful  recollection,  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  smoulder- 
ing ruins  of  her  once  happy  home.  She  tottered  with 
her  chilled  and  hungry  children  towards  the  heap  of 
smoking  rafters  and  still  glowing  embers  of  the  cabin, 
with  which  the  morning  breezes  were  toying  as  in 
merry  pastime,  and  sat  down  upon  a  mound  which 
stood  before  what  had  once  been  the  door.  Here,  at 
least,  was  warmth,  but  whither  should  she  go  for 
shelter  and  fooa.  There  was  no  house  within  forty 
miles  and  the  cruel  flames  had  spared  neither  grain 


' 


.0^,/*'^ 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


1^    12.2 


1^ 


11 


2.0 


1.8 


1.4 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREEV 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14580 

(716)  872-4303 


0 


.f^ 


.V 


iin^      «S* 


:\ 


\ 


^ 


256 


PATHETIC  PASSAGES  OF  PIONEER  LIFE. 


t 


nor  meat.  There  was  no  shelter  but  the  canopy  of 
heaven  and  no  food  but  roots  and  half-burned  nuts. 

Wandering  hither  and  thither  under  the  charred 
and  leafless  trees,  she  picked  up  with  her  numb  and 
nerveless  fingers  the  relics  of  the  autumn  nuts  or 
feebly  dug  in  the  frost-stiffened  ground  for  roots. 
But  these  were  rare ;  here  and  there  she  found  a  nut 
shielded  by  a  decayed  log,  and  the  edible  roots  were 
almost  hidden  by  the  asheS  of  the  grass.  She  returned 
to  the  fire,  around  which  her  innocent  children  had 
begun  to  frolic  with  childlike  thoughtlessness.  The 
coarse  morsels  which  she  gave  them  seemed  for  the 
moment  to  quiet  their  cravings,  and  the  strange  sight 
of  their  home  in  ruins  diverted  their  minds.  Tha 
mother  saw  with  joy  that  they  were  amusing  them- 
selves with  merry  games  and  had  no  part  in  her  bitter 
sorrows  and  fears.  Long  and  earnestly  did  she  bend 
her  eyes  on  the  wide,  black  plains  to  see  if  she  could 
discern  the  white-topped  wagon  moving  over  thai 
dark  expanse.  Noon  came  and  passed  but  brought 
not  the  sight  for  which  she  yearned  :  only  the  brown 
deer  gamboling  and  the  prairie  hen  wheeling  her 
flight  over  the  scorched  waste  ! 

Night  came  with  its  cold,  its  dt^rkness,  its  hunger, 
its  dreadful  solitude !  The  chilled  and  shelterless 
woman  sat  with  the  heads  of  her  sleeping  children 
pillowed  in  her  lap,  and  listened  to  the  howling  of  the 
starved  wolves,  the  dog  her  only  guardian.  She  had 
discovered  a  few  ground-nuts,  which  she  had  divided 
among  the  children,  reserving  none  for  herself ;  she 
had  stripped  off  nearly  all  her  clothing  in  order  to 
wrap  them  up  warmly  against  the  frosty  air,  and  with 
pleasant  words,  while  her  head  was  bursting,  she  had 


^^ 


^T 


t 


ii 


.  k» 


A  FEARFUL  NICnTWATCB. 


25T 


soothed  them  to  sleep  beside  the  burning  pile ;  and 
there,  through  the  watches  of  the  long  night,  she 
gazed  fondly  at  them  and  prayed  to  the  Father  of 
mercies  that  they,  at  least,  might  be  spared. 

The  night  was  dark :  beyond  the  circle  of  the  burn- 
ing embers  nothing  could  be  discerned.  At  intervals, 
her  blood  was  curdled  by  the  long,  mournful  howl  of 
the  gaunt  gray  wolf  calling  his  companions  to  their 
prey.  The  cold  wind  whistled  around  her  thinly  clad 
frame  and  chilled  it  to  the  core.  As  the  night  grew 
stiller  a  drowsiness  against  which  she  contended  in 
vain,  overcame  her,  her  eyelids  drooped,  her  shivering 
body  swayed  to  and  fro,  until  by  the  tumbling  down 
of  the  embers  she  was  again  aroused,  and  would  brace 
herself  for  another  hour's  vigil.  At  last  the  darkness 
became  profoundly  silent  and  even  the  wind  ceased  to 
whisper,  the  nocturnal  marauders  stole  away,  and 
night  held  her  undisputed  reign.  Then  came  a  heavy 
dreamless  sleep  and  overpowered  the  frame  of  the 
Watcher,  chilled  as  it  was,  and  faint  with  hunger,  and 
worn  with  fatigue  and  vigils :  she  curled  her  shiver- 
ing limbs  around  her  loved  ones  and  became  oblivious 
to  all. 

It  Avas  the  cry  of  her  babes  that  waked  her  from 
slumber.  The  fire  was  slowly  dying;  the  sun  was 
looking  down  coldly  from  the  leaden  sky ;  slowly  his 
beams  were  obscured  by  dark,  sullen  masses  of  vapor, 
which  at  last  curtained  the  whole  heavens.  Rain! 
When  she  sat  watching  in  the  darkness,  a  few  hours 
before,  she  thought  nothing  could  make  her  condition 
worse.  But  an  impending  rain-storm  which,  thirty-six 
hours  before,  would  have  been  hailed  as  merciful  and 
saving,  would  now  only  aggravate  their  situation. 
17       • 


_ 


258 


PATHETIC  PASSAGES  OF  PIONEER  LIFE. 


Darker  and  darker  grew  the  sky.  She  must  hasten 
for  food  ere  the  clouds  should  burst.  Her  limbs  were 
•■^tiff  with  cold,  her  sight  was  dim,  and  her  brain  reeled 
as  she  rose  to  her  feet  and  tottered  to  the  grove  to 
search  for  sustenance  to  keep  her  wailing  babes  alive. 
Her  own  desire  for  food  was  gone,  but  all  exhausted 
as  she  was  she  could  not  resist  the  plei-dings  of  the 
loved  ones  who  hung  upon  her  garments  and  begged 
for  food. 

Gleaning  a  few  more  coarse  morsels  on  the  ground 
so  often  searched,  she  tottered  back  to  the  spot  which 
still  seemed  home  though  naught  of  home  was  there. 
Strange,  racking  pains  wrung  her  wasted  body,  and 
sinking  down  beside  her  children  she  felt  as  if  her 
last  hour  had  come.  Yes!  she  vould  perish  there 
beside  those  consecrated  ashes  with  her  little  ones 
around  her.  A  drizzling  rain  was  falling  faster  and 
faster.  The  fire  was  dying  and  she  pushed  the  brands 
together,  and  gathered  her  trembling  babes  about  her 
knees,  and  between  the  periods  of  her  agony  told 
them  not  to  forget  their  mamma  nor  how  they  had 
lost  her ;  she  gave  the  eldest  boy  many  tender  mes- 
sages to  carry  to  her  husband  and  to  her  first  born. 
With  wondering  and  tearful  face  he  promised  to  do  as 
she  desired,  but  begged  her  to  tell  him  where  she 
would  be  when  his  father  came  and  whether  his  little 
brother  would  go  with  her  and  leave  him  all  alone. 

The  rain  poured  down  mercilessly  and  chilly  blew 
the  blast.  The  embers  hissed  and  blackened  and  shed 
no  more  warmth  on  the  suffering  group.  Keener  and 
heavier  grew  the  mother's  pangs^  and  there  beside  the 
smoking  ruins  of  her  home,  prone  on  the  drenched 
soil;  with  the  pitiless  sky  bending  above  her,  her  help- 


T 


-.. 


i 


THE  LAST  SCESE. 


259 


f: 


:  h 


less  children  wailing  around  her  writhing  form,  the 
hapless  woman  gave  birth  to  a  little  babe,  whose  eyes 
were  never  opened  to  the  desolation  of  its  natal  home. 

Unconscious  alike  to  the  cries  of  the  terror  stricken 
children  and  of  the  moaning  caresses  of  her  dumb 
friend,  that  poor  mother's  eye3  were  only  opened 
on  the  dreadful  scene  when  day  was  far  advanced. 
Through  the  cold  rain,  still  pouring  steadily  down,  the 
twilight  seemed  to  her  faint  eyes  to  be  creeping  over 
the  earth.  Sweet  sounds  were  ringing  in  her  ears. 
These  were  but  dreams  that  deluded  her  weakened 
mind  and  senses.  She  strove  to  rise,  but  fell  back 
and  again  relapsed  into  insensibility.  Once  again  her 
eyes  opened.  This  time  it  was  no  illusion.  The 
eldest  of  the  little  watchers  was  shouting  in  her  ear, 
**  Mother,  I  see  father's  wagon !  "  There  it  was  close 
at  hand.  All  day  it  had  been  slowly  moving  across 
the  blackened  prairie.  The  turf  had  been  softened 
by  the  rain  and  the  last  few  miles  had  been  inconceiv- 
ably tedious.  The  charred  surface  of  the  plain  had 
filled  the  heart  of  both  father  and  son  with  terror, 
which  increased  as  they  advanced. 

When  they  were  within  a  mile  of  the  spot  where 
the  cabin  stood  and  could  see  no  house,  they  both 
abandoned  the  wagon,  and  leaving  the  animals  to 
follow  as  they  chose,  they  flew  shouting  loudly  as 
they  sped  on  till  they  stood  over  the  perishing  group. 
They  could  not  for  the  moment  comprehend  the  dread- 
ful calamity,  but  stared  at  the  wasted  faces  of  the 
children,  the  infant  corpse,  the  dying  wife,  the  deso- 
late home. 

Cursing  the  day  that  he  had  been  lured  by  the 
festal  beauty  of  those  prairies,  the  father  lifted  the 


260 


PATHETIC  PASSAGES  OF  PIONEER  LIFE. 


dying  womaij  in  his  arms,  gazed  with  an  agonized 
face  upon  her  glassy  eyes,  and  felt  the  faint  fluttering 
in  her  breast  that  foretold  the  last  and  worst  that 
could  befall  him.  Slowly,  word  by  word,  with  weak 
sepulchral  voice,  she  told  the  dreadful  story. 

He  slipped  off  his  outer  garments  and  wrapped 
them  around  her,  and  wiping  off  the  rain-drops  from 
her  face  drew  her  to  his  heart.  But  storm  or  shelter 
was  all  the  same  to  her  now,  and  the  death-damp  on 
her  brow  was  colder  than  the  pelting  shower.  He 
accused  himself  of  her  cruel  murder  and  wildly  prayed 
her  forgiveness.  From  these  accusations  she  vindi- 
cated him,  besought  him  not  to  grieve  for  her,  and 
with  many  prayers  for  her  dear  children  and  their 
father,  she  resigned  her  breath  with  the  parting  light 
of  that  sad  autumnal  day. 

After  two  days  and  nights  of  weeping  and  watching, 
he  laid  her  remains  deep  down  below  the  prairie  sod, 
beside  the  home  which  she  had  loved  and  made  bright, 
by  her  presence. 


■H' 


OHAPTEE  XII. 


BB 


THE  HEROINES  OF  THE  SOUTHWEST. 

NO  portion  of  our  country  has  been  the  scene  of 
more  romantic  and  dangerous  adventures  than 
that  region  described  under  the  broad  and  vague  term 
the  "  Southwest."  Texas,  New  Mexico,  and  Arizona, 
are  vast,  remote,  and  varied  fields  with  which  danger 
and  hardship,  wonder  and  mystery  are  ever  associated. 
The  country  itself  embraces  great  contrarieties  of 
scenery  and  topography — the  rich  farm,  the  expansive 
cattle  ranch,  the  broad  lonely  prairie  watered  by  ma- 
jestic rivers,  the  barren  desert,  the  lofty  plateau,  the 
secluded  mining  settlement,  and  vast  mountain  ranges 
furrowed  by  torrents  into  black  canons  where  sands  of 
gold  lie  heaped  in  inaccessible,  useless  riches. 

The  forms  of  human  society  are  almost  equally 
diverse.  Strange  and  mysterious  tribes,  each  with  dif- 
ferent characteristics,  here  live  side  by  side.  Vile 
mongrel  breeds  of  men  multiply  to  astonish  the  eth- 
nologist and  the  moralist.  Here  roam  the  Comanches 
and  the  Apaches,  the  most  remorseless  and  blood- 
thirsty of  all  the  North  American  aboriginal  tribes. 
Mexican  bandits  traverse  the  plains  and  lurk  in  the 
mountain  passes,  and  American  outlaws  and  despera- 
does here  find  a  refuge  from  justice. 

As  the  A  glo-Saxon  after  fording  the  Sabine,  the 
Brazos,  and  the  Colorado  River  of  Texas,  advances 
westward,  he  is  brought  face  to  face  with  these  differ- 

(261) 


262 


THE  HEROINES  OF  THE  SOUTHWEST. 


ent  races  with  whom  is  mixed  in  greater  or  less  pro- 
portion the  blood  of  the  old  Castilian  conquerors. 
Each  of  these  races  is  widely  alien  from,  ond  most  of 
them  instinctively  antagonistic  to  the  North  European 
people. 

Taking  into  view  the  immense  distances  to  be  trav- 
ersed, the  natural  difficulties  presented  by  the  face  of 
the  country,  the  remoteness  of  the  region  from  civili- 
zation, and  the  mixed,  incongruous  and  hostile  charac- 
ter of  the  inhabitants,  we  might  naturally  expect  that 
its  occupation  by  peaceful  settlers, — by  those  forms 
of  household  life  in  which  woman  is  an  essential  elc 
ment — would  be  indefinitely  postponed.  But  that  en- 
ergy and  ardor  which  marks  alike  the  men  and  the 
women  of  our  race  has  carried  the  family,  that  germ 
of  the  state,  over  all  obstacles  and  planted  it  in  the 
inhospitable  soil  of  the  most  remote  corners  of  this 
region,  and  there  it  will  flourish  and  germinate  doubt- 
less till  it  has  uprooted  every  neighboring  and  noxious 
product. 

The  northeastern  section  of  this  extensive  country 
is  composed  of  that  stupendous  level  tract  known  as 
the  "  Llano  Estacado,"  or  "  Staked  Plain."  Stretching 
hundreds  of  miles  in  every  direction,  this  sandy  plain, 
treeless,  arid,  with  only  here  and  there  patches  of 
stunted  herbage,  whitened  by  the  bones  of  horses  and 
mules,  and  by  the  more  ghastly  skeletons  of  too  ad- 
venturous travelers,  presents  an  area  of  desolation 
scarcely  more  than  paralleled  by  the  great  African 
Desert. 

In  the  year  184C,  after  news  had  reached  the  States 
that  our  troops  were  in  peaceful  occupation  of  New 
Mexico,  a  party  of  men  and  women  set  out  from  the 


Mi 


A  JOURNEY  OVER  THE  "STAKED  PLAIN." 


263 


upper  valley  of  the  Red  River  of  Louisiana,  with  the 
intention  of  settling  in  the  valley  of  the  river  Pecos, 
in  the  eastern  part  of  the  newly  conquered  territory. 
The  company  consisted  of  seven  persons,  viz :  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Benham  and  their  child  of  seven  years,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Braxton  and  two  sons  of  fifteen  and  eighteen 
years  respectively. 

They  made  rapid  and  comfortable  progress  through 
the  valley  of  the  Red  River,  and  in  two  weeks  reached 
the  edge  of  the  "  Staked  Plain,"  which  they  now  made 
preparations  to  cross,  for  the  difficulties  and  dangers 
of  the  route  were  not  unknown  to  them.  Disencum- 
bering their  pack-mules  of  all  useless  burdens  and 
supplying  themselves  with  water  for  two  days,  they 
pushed  forward  on  their  first  stage  which  brought 
them  on  the  evening  of  the  second  day  to  a  kind  of 
oasis  in  this  desert  where  they  found  wood,  water,  and 
grass.  From  this  point  there  was  a  stretch  of  ninety 
miles  perfectly  bare  of  wood  and  water,  and  with  rare 
intervals  of  scanty  herbage  for  the  beasts.  After  this 
desolate  region  had  been  passed  they  would  have  a 
comparatively  easy  journey  to  their  destination. 

On  the  evening  of  the  second  day  of  their  passage 
across  this  arid  tract  they  had  the  misfortune  to  burst 
their  only  remaining  water  cask,  and  to  see  the  thirsty 
sands  drink  up  in  a  moment  every  drop  of  the  pre- 
cious liquid.  They  were  then  forty  miles  from  the 
nearest  water.  Their  beasts  were  jaded  and  suffering 
from  thirst.  The  two  men  were  incapacittited  for  ex- 
ertion by  slight  sun-strokes  received  that  day,  and  one 
of  the  boys  had  been  bitten  in  the  hand  by  a  rattle- 
snake while  taking  from  its  burrow  a  prairie  dog  which 
he  had  shot. 


:i^ 


2Q4: 


TEE  HEROINES  OF  THE  SOUTHWEST. 


The  next  day  they  pursued  their  march  only  with  the 
utmost  difficulty ;  the  two  men  were  barely  able  to  sit 
on  their  horses,  and  the  boy  which  had  been  bitten 
was  faint  and  nerveless  from  the  effect  of  the  poison. 
The  heat  was  felt  very  severely  by  the  party  as  they 
dragged  themselves  slowly  across  the  white  expanse 
of  sand,  which  reflected  the  rays  of  the  sun  with  a 
painful  glare  into  the  haggard  eyes  of  the  wretched 
wanderers.  Before  they  had  made  fifteen  miles,  or 
little  more  than  one-third  of  the  distance  that  would 
have  to  be  accomplished  before  reaching  water,  the 
horses  and  mules  gave  out  and  at  three  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  the  party  dismounted  and  panting  with  heat 
and  thirst  stretched  themselves  on  the  sand.  The  sk}? 
above  them  was  like  brass  and  the  soil  Avas  coated  with 
a- fine  alkali  deposit  which  rose  in  clouds  at  their  slight- 
est motion,  filling  their  nostrils  and  eyes,  and  increas- 
ing the  agonies  they  were  suffering. 

Their  only  hope  was  that  they  would  be  discovered 
by  some  passing  train  of  hunters  or  emigrants.  This 
hope  faded  away  as  the  sun  declined  and  nothing  but 
the  sky  and  the  long  dreary  dazzling  expanse  of  sand 
met  their  eyes. 

The  painful  glare  slowly  softened,  and  with  sunset 
came  coolness ;  this  was  some  slight  mitigation  to  their 
sufferings ;  sleep  too,  promised  to  bring  oblivion ;  and 
hope,  which  a  merciful  Providence  has  ordained  to  cast 
its  halo  over  the  darkest  hours,  told  its  flattering  tale 
of  possible  relief  on  the  morrow. 

The  air  of  that  desert  is  pellucid  as  crystal,  and  the 
last  beams  of  the  sun  left  on  the  unclouded  azure  of 
the  sky  a  soft  glow,  through  which  every  thing  in  the 
western  horizon  was  outlined  as  if   drawn  by  some 


r 


n 


B— »BWH.   n.  .u»  ,.„m«,vm  .,.. 


CAPTURED  BY  GUERRILLAS. 


265 


<    ► 


il 


f 


magic  pencil.  Casting  their  eyes  in  that  direction  the 
wretched  wayfarers  saw  far  away  a  dun-colored  haze 
through  which  small  black  specks  seemed  to  be  mov- 
ing. Growing  larger  and  more  distinct  it  approached 
them  slowly  over  the  vast  expanse  until  its  true  nature 
was  apparent.  It  was  a  cloud  of  dust  such  as  a  party 
of  horsemen  make  when  in  rapid  motion  over  a  soil 
as  fine  and  light  as  ashes.  Was  it  friend  or  foe  ?  "Was 
it  American  cavalry  or  was  it  a  band  of  Mexican  guer- 
rillas that  was  galloping  so  fiercely  over  that  arid  plain  ? 
These  torturing  doubts  were  soon  solved.  Skimming 
over  the  ground  like  swallows,  six  sunburnt  men 
with  hair  as  black  as  the  crow's  wing,  gaily  dressed, 
and  bearing  long  lances,  soon  reined  in  their  mustangs 
within  twenty  paces  of  the  party  and  gazed  curiously 
at  them.  One  of  the  band  then  rode  up  and  asked  in 
broken  English  if  they  were  "Americans:"  having 
thus  made  a  reconnoisance  and  seeing  their  helpless- 
ness, without  waiting  for  a  reply,  he  beckoned  to  his 
companions  who  approached  and  demanded  the  sur- 
render of  the  party.  Under  other  circumstances  a 
stout  resistance  would  have  been  made ;  but  in  their 
present  forlorn  condition  they  could  do  nothing. 

Their  guns,  a  part  of  their  money,  and  whatever  the 
unfortunate  families  had  that  pleased  the  guerrillas, 
was  speedily  appropriated,  the  throats  of  their  horses 
and  mules  were  cut,  Mrs.  Braxton  and  Mrs.  Benham 
were  seized,  and  in  spite  of  their  struggles  and  shrieks 
each  of  them  was  placed  in  front  of  a  swarthy  bandit, 
and  then  the  Mexicans  rode  away  cursing  "  Los  Ameri- 
canos," and  barbarously  leaving  them  to  die  of  hunger 
and  thirst. 

After  a  four  hours'  gallop,  the  marauders  reached 


T 


266 


THE  HEROINES  OF  THE  SOUTHWEST. 


an  adobe  house  on  Picosa  Creek,  a  tributary  of  the 
Rio  Pecos.  This  was  the  headquarters  of  the  gang, 
and  here  they  kept  relays  of  fresh  horses,  mustangs, 
fiery,  and  full  of  speed  and  bottom.  Mrs.  Benham 
and  Mrs.  Braxton  were  placed  in  a  room  by  them- 
selves on  the  second  story,  and  the  door  was  barri- 
caded so  that  escape  by  that  avenue  was  impossible ; 
but  the  windows  were  only  guarded  by  stout  oaken 
bars,  which  the  women,  by  their  united  strength, 
succeeded  in  removing.  Their  captors  were  plunged 
in  a  profound  slumber,  when  Mrs.  Benham  and  hei 
companion  dropped  themselves  out  of  the  window, 
and  succeeded  in  reaching  the  stable  without  dii^^cov. 
ery.  Here  they  found  six  fresh  horses  ready  saddled 
and  bridled,  the  otl^ers  on  which  the  bandits  had  made 
their  raid  being  loose  in  the  enclosure. 

It  was  a  cruel  necessity  which  impelled  our  bravfc 
heroines  to  draw  their  knives  across  the  hamstrings  of 
the  tired  horses,  thus  disabling  them  so  as  to  prevent 
pursuit.  Then  softly  leading  out  the  six  fresh  mus- 
tangs, each  of  our  heroines  mounted  one  of  the  horses 
man-fashion  and  led  the  others  lashed  together  with 
lariats ;  walking  the  beasts  until  out  of  hearing,  they 
then  put  them  to  a  gallop,  and,  riding  all  night,  came, 
at  sunrise,  to  the  spot  where  their  suffering  friends 
lay  stretched  on  the  sand,  having  abandoned  all  hope. 

After  a  brief  rest,  the  whole  party  pushed  rapidly 
forward  on  their  journey,  arriving  that  evening  at  a 
place  of  safety.  Two  days  after,  they  reached  the 
headwaters  of  the  Pecos.  Here  they  purchased  a 
large  adobe  house,  and  an  extensive  tract,  suitable 
both  for  grazing  and  tillage.  . 

These  events  occurred  early  in  the  autumn.     Dur- 


A 


■4 


BESIEGED  BY  MEXICANS. 


267 


ing  the  following  winter  the  Mexicans  revolted,  and 
massacred  Governor  Bent  and  his  military  household. 
On  the  same  day  seven  Americans  were  killed  at 
Arroyo  Hondo ;  a  large  Mexicai  force  was  preparing 
to  march  on  Santa  F^,  and  for  a  time  it  seemed  as  if 
the  handful  of  American  soldiers  would  be  driven  out 
of  the  territory.  This  conspiracy  was  made  known 
to  the  authorities  by  an  American  girl,  who  was  the 
wife  of  one  of  the  Mexican  conspirators,  and  becor^'^g, 
through  her  husband,  acquainted  with  the  plan  oi! 
operations,  divulged  them  to  General  Price  in  season 
to  prevent  a  more  general  outbreak.  As  it  \v'i  .s,  the 
American  settlors  were  in  great  danger. 

The  strong  and  spacious  house  in  which  the  Ben- 
hams  and  Braxtons  lived  had  formerly  been  used  as  a 
stockade  and  fortification  against  Indian  attack.  Its 
thick  walls  were  pierced  with  loop-holes,  and  its  doors, 
of  double  oak  planks,  were  studded  with  wrought-iron 
spikes,  which  made  it  bullet-proof.  A  detachment  of 
United  States  troops  were  stationed  a  short  distance 
from  their  ranch,  and  the  two  families,  in  spite  of  the 
disturbed  condition  of  the  country,  felt  reasonably 
secure.  The  troops  were  withdrawn,  however,  after 
the  revolt  commenced,  leaving  the  new  settlers 
dependent  upon  their  own  resources  for  protection. 
Their  cattle  and  horses  were  driven  into  the  enclosure, 
and  the  inmates  of  the  house  kept  a  sharp  lookout 
against  hostile  parties  of  marauders,  whether  Indian  or 
Mexican. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  January  24tli  a  mounted 
party  of  twelve  Mexicans  made  their  appearance  in 
front  of  the  enclosure,  which  they  quickly  scaled,  and 
discharged   a  volley  of  balls,  one   of  which  passed 


t  r 


268 


THE  HEROINES  OF  THE  SOUTHWEST. 


through  a  loop-hole,  and,  entering  Mr.  Braxton's  eye 
as  he  was  aiming  a  rifle  at  the  assailants,  laid  him 
dead  at  the  feet  of  his  wife.  Mrs.  Braxton,  with 
streaming  eyes,  laid  the  head  of  her  husband  in  her  lap 
and  watched  his  expiring  throes  with  agony,  such  as 
only  a  wife  and  mother  can  feel  when  she  sees  the  dear 
partner  of  her  life  and  the  father  of  her  sons  torn  in 
an  instant  from  her  embrace.  Seeing  that  her  hus- 
band was  no  more,  she  dried  her  tears  and  thought 
only  of  vengeance  on  his  murderers. 

The  number  of  the  besieged  was  twelve  at  the  start, 
viz :  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Braxton,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Benham  and 
their  children,  three  Irish  herders,  and  a  half-breed 
Mexican  and  his  wife,  who  were  house  servants.  The 
death  of  Mr.  Braxton  had  reduced  their  number  to 
eleven.  A  few  moments  later  the  Mexican  half-breed 
disappeared,  but  was  not  missed  in  the  excitement  of 
the  defense. 

The  besieged  returned  with  vigor  the  fire  of  theii 
assailants,  two  of  whom  had  already  bit  the  dust. 
The  women  loaded  the  guns  and  passed  them  to  the 
men,  who  kept  the  Mexicans  at  a  respectful  distance 
by  the  rapidity  of  their  fire.  Mrs.  Benham  was  the 
first  to  mark  the  absence  of  Juan  the  Mexican  half- 
breed,  and,  suspecting  treachery,  flew  to  the  loft  with 
a  hatchet  in  one  hand  and  a  revolver  in  the  other. 
Her  suspicion  was  correct.  Juan  had  opened  an  up- 
per window,  and,  letting  down  a  ladder,  had  assisted 
two  of  the  attacking  party  to  ascend,  and  they  were 
preparing  to  make  an  assault  on  those  below  by  firing 
through  the  cracks  in  the  floor,  when  the  intrepid 
woman  despatched  Juan  with  a  shot  from  her  revolver 


A  TREACHEROUS  ENVOY. 


269 


w 


^  and  clove  the  skull  of  another  Mexican;  the  third 
leaped  from  the  window  and  escaped. 

As  Mrs.  Benham  was  about  to  descend  from  the 
loft,  after  drawing  up  the  ladder  and  closing  the  win- 
dow, she  was  met  by  the  wife  of  the  treacherous  half- 
breed,  who  aimed  a  stroke  at  her  breast  with  a  machete 
or  large  knife,  such  as  the  Mexicans  use.  She  received 
a  flesh  wound  in  the  left  arm  as  she  parried  the  blow, 
and  it  was  only  with  the  mixed  strength  of  Mrs.  Brax- 
ton and  one  of  the  herders,  who  had  now  ascended 
to  the  loft,  that  the  infuriated  Mexican  whom  Mrs. 
Benham  had  made  a  widow,  could  be  mastered  and 
bound. 

Three  of  the  attacking  party  had  now  been  killed 
and  three  others  placed  liors  de  combat ;  the  remnant 
'  were  apparently  about  to  retire  from  the  siege,  when 
BIX  more  swarthy  desperadoes,  mounted  on  black  mus- 
tangs, came  galloping  up  and  halted  on  a  hill  just  out 
\)f  rifle  shot. 

Mrs.  Braxton  and  Mrs.  Benham,  looking  through  a 
field  glass,  at  once  recognized  them  as  the  band  which 
had  made  them  captives  a  few  months  before. 

After  a  few  moments  of  consultation  one  of  the 
band,  who  appeared  to  be  only  anned  with  a  bow  and 
arrow,  advanced  towards  the  house  waving  a  white 
flag.  Within  thirty  paces  of  the  door  stood  a  large 
tree,  and  behind  this  the  envoy,  bearing  the  white 
flag,  ensconced  himself,  and,  striking  a  light,  twanged 
his  bow  and  sent  a  burning  arrow  upon  the  roof  of 
the  house,  which,  being  dry  as  tinder,  in  a  moment 
was  in  a  blaze. 

Both  of  the  women  immediately  carried  water  to 
the    roof    and    extinguished    the    flames.     Another 


^ 


\< 


270 


TEE  HEROINES  OF  THE  SOUTHWEST. 


arrow,  wrapped  in  cotton  steeped  in  turpentine,  again 
set  the  roof  on  fire,  and  as  one  of  the  intrepid  matrons 
threw  a  bucket  of  water  upon  the  blaze,  the  dastard 
stepped  from  behind  the  tree  and  sent  a  pistol  ball 
through  her  right  arm,  but  at  the  same  moment 
received  two  rifle  balls  in  his  breast,  and  fell  a  corpse. 

Mrs.  Benham,  for  it  was  she  who  hadlbeen  struck, 
was  assisted  by  her  husband  to  the  ground  floor,  where 
her  wound  was  examined  and  found  to  be  fortunately 
not  a  dangerous  one.  A  new  peril,  however,  now 
struck  terror  to  their  hearts;  the  water  was  all  ex- 
hausted. The  fire  began  to  make  headway.  Mrs. 
Braxton,  calling  loudly  for  water  to  extinguish  it,  and 
meeting  no  response,  descended  to  the  ground  floor, 
where  the  defenders  were  about  to  give  up  all  hope, 
and  either  resign  themselves  to  the  flames,  or  hy 
emerging  from  the  house,  submit  to  massacre  at  the 
hands  of  the  now  infuriated  foe.  As  Mrs.  Braxton 
rolled  her  eyes  hither  and  thither  in  search  of  some 
substitute  for  water,  they  fell  on  the  corpse  of  her 
husband.  His  coat  and  vest  were  completely  saturated 
with  blood.  It  was  only  the  sad  but  terrible  necessity 
which  immediately  suggested  to  her  the  use  to  which 
these  garments  could  be  put.  Shuddering,  she  re- 
moved them  quickly  but  tenderly  from  the  body,  flew 
to  the  roof  and  succeeded,  by  these  dripping  and 
ghastly  tokens  of  her  widowhood,  in  finally  extin- 
guishing the  flames. 

The  attack  ceased  at  night-fall,  and  the  Mexicans 
withdrew.  The  outbreak  having  been  soon  quelled 
by  the  United  States  forces,  the  territory  was  brought 
again  into  a  condition  of  peace  and  comparative 
security. 


GOLD-HUNTING  IN  ARIZONA. 


271 


At  the  close  of  the  war  ia  1848,  Mrs.  Braxton 
married  a  discharged  vohinteer  named  Whitley,  and 
having  disposed  of  the  late  Mr.  Braxton's  interest  in 
the  New  Mexican  ranche,  removed,  in  1851,  with  her 
husband  and  family,  to  California,  where  they  lived 
for  two  years  in  the  Sacramento  valley. 

"Whitley  was  possessed  of  one  of  those  roving  and 
adventurous  spirits  which  is  never  happy  in  repose, 
and  when  he  was  informed  by  John  Grossman,  an  old 
comrade,  of  the  discovery  of  a  rich  placer  which  he 
had  made  during  his  march  as  a  United  States  soldier 
across  the  territory  of  Arizona,  at  that  time  known 
as  the  Gadsden  purchase,  he  eagerly  formed  a  part- 
.nership  with  the  discoverer,  who  was  no  longer  in 
the  army,  and  announced  to  his  wife  his  resolution 
to  settle  in  Arizona.  She  endeavored  by  every  argu- 
ment she  could  command  to  dissuade  him  from  this  rash 
step,  but  in  vain,  and  finding  all  her  representations 
and  entreaties  of  no  avail,  she  consented,  though  with 
the  utmost  reluctance,  to  accompany  him.  They  ac- 
cordingly sold  their  place  and  took  vessel  with  their 
household  goods,  for  San  Diego,  from  which  point 
they  purposed  to  advance  across  the  country  three 
hundred  miles  to  the  point  where  Grossman  had  located 
his  placer. 

The  territory  of  Arizona  may  be  likened  to  that 
wild  and  rugged  mountain  region  in  Gentral  Asia, 
where,  according  to  Persian  myth,  untold  treasures 
arc  guarded  by  the  malign  legions  of  Ahriman,  the 
spirit  of  evil.  Two  of  the  great  elemental  forces  have 
employed  their  destructive  agencies  upon  the  surface 
of  the  country  until  it  might  serve  for  an  ideal  picture 
of  desolation.    For  countless  centuries  the  water  has 


W\ 


272 


THE  HEROINES  OF  THE  SOUTH  WEST. 


r  if-  . 


\ 


seamed  and  gashed  the  face  of  the  hills,  stripping  them 
of  soil,  and  cutting  deep  gorges  and  caiions  through 
the  rocks.  The  water  then  flowed  away  or  disap- 
peared in  the  sands,  and  the  sun  came  with  its  parch- 
ing heat  to  complete  the  work  of  ruin.  Famine  and 
thirst  stalk  over  those  arid  plains,  or  lurk  in  the  wa- 
terless and  gloomy  canons ;  as  if  to  compensate  for 
these  evils,  the  soil  of  the  territory  teems  with  min- 
eral wealth.  Grains  of  gold  glisten  in  the  sandy  de- 
hris  of  ancient  torrents,  and  nuggets  are  wedged  in 
the  fiices  of  the  precipices.  Mountains  of  silver  and 
copper  ore  waiting  for  the  miner  who  is  bold  enough 
to  venture  through  that  desolate  region  in  quest  oi 
these  metals. 

The  journey  from  San  Diego  was  made  with  pack 
mules  and  occupied  thirty  days,  durina:  which  nearly 
every  harriship  and  obstacle  in  the  pi  uieer's  catalogue 
was  encountered.  When  they  reached  the  spot  de- 
scribed by  Grossman  they  found  the  place,  which  lay 
at  the  bottom  of  a  deep  ravine,  had  been  covered  with 
boulders  and  thirty  feet  of  sand  by  the  rapid  torrents 
of  five  rainy  seasons.  They  immediately  commenced 
*' prospecting."  Mrs.  Braxton  had  the  good  fortune  to 
discover  a  large  "  pocket,"  from  which  Grossman  and 
her  husband  took  out  in  a  few  weeks  thirty  thousand 
dollars  in  gold.  This  contented  the  advent\irers,  and 
being  disgusted  wuth  the  appearance  of  the  country, 
they  decided  to  go  back  to  Galifornia. 

Instead  of  returning  on  the  same  route  by  which 
they  came,  they  resolved  to  cross  the  Golorado  river 
higher  up  and  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Santa  Maria. 
They  reached  the  Golorado  river  after  a  toilsome 
march,  but  while  searching  for  a  place  to  pass  over, 


A  DEVOTED  WIFE. 


273 


Grossman  lost  his  footing  and  fell  sixty  feet  down  a 
precipice,  surviving  only  long  enough  to  bequeath  his 
share  of  the  treasure  to  his  partner.  Here,  too,  they 
had  the  misfortune  to  lose  one  of  their  four  pack- 
mules,  which  strayed  away.  Pressing  on  in  a  north- 
westerly direction  they  passed  through  a  series  of 
deep  valleys  and  gorges  where  the  only  water  they 
could  find  was  brackish  and  bitter,  and  reached  the 
edge  of  the  California  desert.  They  had  meanwhile 
lost  another  mule  which  had  been  dashed  to  pieces  by 
falling  down  a  caiion.  Mr.  Whitley's  strength  becom- 
ing exhausted  his  wife  gave  up  to  him  the  beast  she 
had  been  riding,  and  pursued  her  way  on  foot,  driving 
before  her  the  other  mule,  which  bore  the  gold-dust 
with  their  scanty  supply  of  food  and  their  only  re- 
maining cooking  utensils.  Their  tents  and  camp 
furniture  having  been  lost  they  had  suffered  much 
from  the  chilly  nights  in  the  mountains,  and  after  they 
had  entered  the  desert,  from  the  rays  of  the  sun.  Be- 
fore they  could  reach  the  Mohave  river  Mr.  Whitley 
became  insane  from  thirst  and  hunger,  and  nothing 
but  incessant  watclifulness  on  the  part  of  his  wife 
could  prevent  him  from  doing  injury  to  himself 
Once  while  she  was  gathering  cactus-leaves  to  wet  his 
lips  with  the  moisture  they  contained,  he  bit  his  arm 
and  • .  ';cd  the  blood.  Upon  reaching  the  river  he 
drank  immoderately  of  the  water  and  in  an  hour  ex- 
pired, regaining  his  consciousness  before  death,  and 
blessing  his  devoted  wife  with  his  last  breath.  Ten 
days  later  the  brave  woman  had  succeeded  in  reaching 
Techichipa  in  so  wasted  a  condition  that  she  looked 
like  a  specter  risen  from  the  grave.  Here  by  careful 
nursing  she  was  at  length  restored  to  health.  The 
18 


^ 


274 


THE  HEROINES  OF  THE  SOUTHWEST. 


gold-dust  which  had  cost  so  dearly  was  found  after  a 
long  search,  beneath  the  carcass  of  the  mule,  twenty 
miles  from  Techichipa. 

The  extraordinary  exploits  of  Mrs.  Braxton  can  only 
be  explained  by  supposing  her  to  be  naturally  endowed 
with  a  larger  share  of  nerve  and  hardihood  than  usu- 
ally falls  to  the  lot  of  her  sex.  Some  influence,  too, 
must  be  ascribed  to  the  peculiarly  wild  and  free  life 
that  prevails  in  the  southwest.  Living  so  much  of  the 
time  in  the  open  air  in  a  climate  peculiarly  luxuriant 
and  yet  bracing,  and  environed  with  dangers  in  mani- 
fold  guise,  all  the  latent  heroism  in  woman's  nature  is 
brought  out  to  view,  her  muscular  and  nervous  tissues 
are  hardened,  and  her  moral  endurance  by  constant 
training  in  the  school  of  hardship  and  danger,  rests 
upon  a  strong  and  healthy  physique.  Upon  this  the- 
ory we  may  also  explain  the  following  incident  which 
is  related  of  another  border-woman  of  the  southwest. 

*  Beyond  the  extreme  outer  line  of  settlements  in 
western  Texas,  near  the  head  waters  of  the  Colorado 
River,  and  in  one  of  the  remotest  and  most  sequestered 
sections  of  that  sparsely  populated  district,  there  lived 
in  1867,  an  enterprising  pioneer  by  the  name  of  Babb, 
whose  besetting  propensity  and  ambition  consisted  in 
pushing  hi :  fortunes  a  little  farther  toward  the  setting 
sun  than  any  of  his  neighbors,  the  nearest  of  whom, 
at  the  time  specified,  was  some  fifteen  miles  in  his 
rear. 

The  household  of  the  borderer  consisted  of  his  wife, 
three  small  children,  and  a  female  friend  by  the  name 
of  L ,  who,  having  previously  lost  her  husband, 


*Marcy's  Border  Reminiscences. 


..  > 


\\ 


•ftiV 


BORN  rN  TBE  SADDLE. 


275 


was  passing  tlie  summer  with  the  family.  She  was  a 
veritable  type  of  those  vigorous,  self-reliant  border 
women,  who  encounter  danger  or  the  vicissitudes  of 
weather  without  quailing. 

Born  and  nurtured  upon  the  remotest  frontier,  she 
inherited  a  robust  constitution,  and  her  active  life  in  % 
the  exhilarating  prairie  air  served  to  develop  and  ma- 
ture a  healthy  womanly  physique.  From  an  early  age 
she  had  been  a  fearless  rider,  and  her  life  on  the  fron- 
tier had  habituated  her  to  the  constant  use  of^he 
horse  until  she  felt  almost  more  at  home  in  the  saddle 
than  in  a  chair. 

Upon  one  bright  and  lovely  morning  in  June,  1867, 
the  adventurous  borderer  before  mentioned,  set  out 
from  his  home  with  some  cattle  for  a  distant  market, 
leaving  his  family  in  possession  of  the  ranch,  without 
any  male  protectors  from  Indian  marauders. 

They  did  not,  however,  entertain  any  serious  ap- 
prehensions of  molestation  in  his  absence,  as  no  hostile 
Indians  had  as  yet  made  their  appearance  in  that  lo- 
cality, and  everything  passed  on  quietly  for  several 
days,  until  one  morning,  while  the  women  were  busily 
occupied  with  their  domestic  affairs  in  the  house,  the 
two  oldest  children,  who  were  playing  outside,  called 
to  thei"  mother,  and  informed  her  that  some  mounted 
men  were  approaching  from  the  prairie.  On  looking 
out,  she  perceived,  to  her  astonishment,  that  they  were 
Indians  coming  upon  the  gallop,  and  already  very  near 
the  house.  This  gave  her  no  time  to  make  arrarige- 
ments  for  defense ;  but  she  screamed  to  the  children 
to  run  in  for  their  lives,  as  she  desired  to  bar  the  door, 
being  conscious  of  the  fact  that  the  prairie  warriors 
seldom  attack  a  house  that  is  closed,  fearing,  doubtless, 


T 


276 


THE  HEROINES  OF  THE  SOUTHWEST. 


! 


that  it  may  be  occupied  by  armed  men,  who  might 
give  them  an  unwelcome  reception. 

The  children  did  not,  however,  obey  the  command 
of  their  mother,  believing  the  strangers  to  be  white 
men,  and  the  door  was  left  open.     As  soon  as  the 

alarm  was  given,  Mrs.  L sprang  up  a  ladder  into 

the  loft,  and  concealed  herself  in  such  a  position  that 
she  could,  through  cracks  in  the  floor,  see  all  that 
passed  beneath. 

Meantime  the  savages  came  up,  seized  and  bound 
the  two  children  outdoors,  and,  entering  the  house, 
rushed  toward  the  young  child,  which  the  terror- 
stricken  mother  struggled  frantically  to  rescue  from 
their  clutches ;  but  they  were  too  much  for  her,  and 
tearing  the  infant  from  her  arms,  they  dashed  it  upon 
the  floor ;  then  seizing  her  by  the  hair,  they  wrenched 
back  her  head  and  cut  her  throat  from  ear  to  ear,  put- 
ting her  to  death  instantaneously. 

Mrs.  L ,  who  was  anxiously  watching  their 

proceedings  from  the  loft,  witnessed  the  fiendish  trag- 
edy, and  uttered  an  involuntary  shriek  of  horror,  which 
disclosed  her  hiding-place  to  the  barbarians,  and  they 
instantly  vaulted  up  the  ladder,  overpowered  and  tied 
her ;  then  dragging  her  rudely  down,  they  placed  her, 
with  the  two  elder  children,  upon  horses,  and  hur- 
riedly set  off"  to  the  north,  leaving  the  infant  child 
unharmed,  and  clasping  the  murdered  corpse  of  its 
mangled  parent. 

In  accordance  with  their  usual  practice,  they  trav- 
eled as  rapidly  as  their  horses  could  carry  them  for 
several  consecutive  days  and  nights,  only  making  oc- 
casional short  halts  to  graze  and  rest  their  animals,  and 
get  a  little  sleep  themselves,  so  that  the  unfortunate 


J.. 


[ 


T 


PLANNING  AN  ESCAPE.  277 

captives  necessarily  suffered  indescribable  tortures 
from  harsh  treatment,  fatigue,  and  want  of  sleep  and 
food.  Yet  they  were  forced  by  the  savages  to  con- 
tinue on  day  after  day,  and  night  after  night,  for 
many,  many  weary  miles  toward  the  "  Staked  Plain," 
crossing  en  route  the  Brazos,  Wachita,  Red,  Canadian, 
and  Arkansas  Rivers,  several  of  which  were  at  swim- 
ming stages. 

The  warriors  guarded  their  captives  very  closely, 
until  they  had  gone  so  great  a  distance  from  the  set- 
tlements that  they  imagined  it  impossible  for  them  to 
make  their  escape  and  find  their  way  home,  when 
they  relapsed  their  vigilante  slightly,  and  they  were 
permitted  to  walk  about  a  little  within  short  limits 
from  the  bivouacs ;  but  they  were  given  to  understand 
by  unmistakable  pantomime  that  death  would  be  the 
certain  penalty  of  the  first  attempt  to  escape. 

In  spite  of  this,  Mrs.  L ,  who  possessed  a  firm- 
ness of  purpose  truly  heroic,  resolved  to  seize  the  first 
favorable  opportunity  to  get  away,  and  with  this  reso- 
lution in  view,  she  carefully  observed  the  relative 
speed  and  powers  of  endurance  of  the  different  horses 
in  the  party,  and  noted  the  manner  in  which  they 
were  grazed,  guarded,  and  caught ;  and  upon  a  dark 
night,  after  a  long,  fatiguing  day's  ride,  and  while  the 
Indians  were  sleeping  soundly,  she  noiselessly  and  cau- 
tiously crawled  away  from  the  bed  of  her  young  com- 
panions, who  were  also  buried  in  profound  slumber, 
and  going  to  the  pasture-ground  of  the  horses,  selected 
the  best,  leaped  upon  his  back  H  la  gaiyon,  with  only 
a  lariat  around  his  neck,  and  without  saddle  or  bridle, 
quietly  started  off  at  a  slow  walk  in  the  direction  of 
the  north  star,  believing  that  this  course  would  lead 


}'<■ 


■1. 


I 
) 

I 

i  ' 


278 


THE  HEROINES  OF  THE  SOUTH  WEST. 


her  to  the  nearest  white  habitations.  As  soon  as  she 
had  gone  out  of  hearing  from  the  bivouac,  without 
detection  or  pursuit,  she  accelerated  the  speed  of  the 
horse  into  a  trot,  then  to  a  gallop,  and  urged  hira 
rapidly  forward  during  the  entire  night. 

At  dawn  of  day  on  the  followincr  morninfic  she  rose 
upon  the  crest  of  an  eminence  overlooking  a  vast  area 
of  bald  prairie  country,  where,  for  the  first  time  since 
leaving  the  Indians,  she  halted,  and,  turning  round, 
tremblingly  cast  a  rapid  glance  to  the  rear,  expecting 
to  see  the  savage  blood-hounds  upon  her  track ;  but, 
to  her  great  relief,  not  a  single  indication  of  a  living 
object  could  be  discerned  within  the  extended  scope 
of  her  vision.  She  breathed  more  freely  now,  but  still 
did  not  feel  safe  from  pursuit ;  and  the  total  absence 
of  all  knowledge  of  her  whereabouts  in  the  midst 
of  the  wide  expanse  of  dreary  prairie  around  her, 
with  the  uncertainty  of  ever  again  looking  upon  a 
friendly  face,  caused  her  to  realize  most  vividly  her 
own  weakness  and  entire  dependence  upon  the  Al- 
mighty, and  she  raised  her  thoughts  to  Heaven  in  fer- 
vent supplication. 

The  majesty  and  sublimity  of  the  stupendous  works 
of  the  great  Author  and  Creator  of  the  Universe, 
when  contrasted  with  the  insignificance  of  the  powers 
and  achievements  of  a  vivified  axom  of  earth  modeled 
into  human  form,  are  probably  under  no  circumstances 
more  strikingly  exhibited  and  felt  than  when  one  be- 
comes bewildered  and  lost  in  the  almost  limitless  am- 
plitude of  our  great  North  American  "pampas,"  where 
not  a  single  foot-mark  or  other  trace  of  man's  pres- 
ence or  action  can  be  discovered,  and  where  the  soli- 


%; 


LOST  IN  THE  DESERT. 


279 


tary  wanderer  is  startled  at  the  sound  even  of  his  own 
voice. 

The  sensation  of  loneliness  and  despondency  result- 
ing from  the  appalling  consciousness  of  being  really 
and  absolutely  lost,  with  the  realization  of  the  fact 
that  but  two  or  three  of  the  innumerable  different 
points  of  direction  embraced  within  the  circle  of  the 
horizon  will  serve  to  extricate  the  bewildered  victim 
from  the  awful  doom  of  death  by  starvation,  and  in 
entire  ignorance  as  to  which  of  these  particular  direc- 
tions should  be  followed,  without  a  single  road,  trail, 
tree,  bush,  or  other  landmark  to  guide  or  direct — the 
effects  upon  the  imagination  of  this  formidable  array 
of  disheartening  circumstances  can  be  fully  appreci- 
ated only  by  those  who  have  been  personally  sub- 
jected to  their  influence. 

A  famt  perception  of  the  intensity  of  the  mental 
torture  experienced  by  these  unfortunate  victims  may, 
however,  be  conjectured  from  the  fact  that  their  senses 
at  such  junctures  become  so  completely  absorbed  and 
overpowered  by  the  cheerless  prospect  before  them, 
that  they  oftentimes  wander  about  in  a  state  of  tem- 
porary lunacy,  without  the 'power  of  exercising  the 
slightest  volition  of  the  reasoning  faculties. 

The  inflexible  spirit  of  the  heroine  of  this  narra- 
tive did  not,  however,  succumb  in  the  least  to  the 
imminent  perils  of  the  situation  in  which  she  found 
herself,  and  her  purposes  were  carried  out  with  a 
determination  as  resolute  and  unflinching  as  those  of 
the  Israelites  in  their  protracted  pilgrimage  through 
the  wilderness,  and  without  the  guidance  of  pillars  of 
fire  and  cloud. 

The  aid  of  the  sun  and  the  broad  leaves  of  the 


280 


THE  HEROINES  OF  THE  SOUTHWEST. 


pilot-plant  by  day,  •with  the  light  of  Polaris  by  night, 
enabled  her  to  pursue  her  undeviating  course  to  the 
north  with  as  much  accuracy  as  if  she  had  been  guided 
by  the  magnetic  needle. 

She  continued  to  urge  forward  the  generous  steed 
she  bestrode,  who,  in  obedience  to  the  will  of  his  rider, 
coursed  swiftly  on  hour  after  hour  during  the  greater 
part  of  the  day,  without  the  least  apparent  labor  or 
exhaustion. 

It  was  a  contest  for  life  and  liberty  that  she  had 
undertaken,  a  struggle  in  which  she  resolved  to  tri- 
umph or  perish  in  the  effort:  and  still  the  brave- 
hearted  woman  pressed  on,  until  at  length  her  horse 
began  to  show  signs  bf  exhaustion,  and  as  the  shadows 
of  evening  began  to  appear  he  became  so  much  jaded 
that  it  was  difficult  to  coax  or  force  him  into  a  trot, 
and  the  poor  woman  began  to  entertain  serious  appre- 
hensions that  he  might  soon  give  out  altogether  and 
leave  her  on  foot. 

At  this  time  she  was  herself  so  much  wearied  and 
in  want  of  sleep  that  she  would  have  given  all  she 
possessed  to  have  been  allowed  to  dismount  and  rest ; 
but,  unfortunately  for  her,  those  piratical  quadrupeds 
of  the  plains,  the  wolves,  advised  by  their  carnivorous 
instincts  that  she  and  her  exhausted  horse  might  soon 
fall  an  easy  sacrifice  to  their  voracious  appetites,  fol- 
lowed upon  her  track,  and  came  howling  in  great 
numbers  about  her,  so  that  she  dared  not  set  her  feet 
upon  the  ground,  fearing  they  would  devour  her ;  and 
her  only  akernative  was  to  continue  urging  the  poor 
beast  to  struggle  forward  during  the  dark  and  gloomy 
hours  of  the  long  night,  until  at  length  she  became 
80  exhausted  that  it  was  only  with  the  utmost  effort 


^ 

t.,: 


n 


"-n 


;i 


ii-ifiifinii 


ii^iimiiwiw  I  iwi'Mi"' 


M 


t 


/  ' 


M' 


i 


PURSUED  BY  WOLVES. 


281 


H 


i 


1 


of  her  iron  will  tlhat  she  was  enabled  to  preserve  her 
balance  upon  the  horse. 

Meantime  the  ravenous  pack  of  wolves,  becoming 
more  and  more  emboldened  and  impatient  as  the  speed 
of  her  horse  relaxed,  appro.iched  nearer  and  nearer, 
until,  with  their  eyes  flashing  fire,  they  snapped  sav- 
agely &t  the  heels  of  the  terrified  horse,  while  at  the 
same  time  they  kept  up  their  hideous  concert  like  the 
bowlings  of  ten  thousand  fiends  from  the  infernal 
regions. 

Every  element  in  her  nature  was  at  this  fearful 
juncture  taxed  to  its  greatest  tension,  and  impelled 
her  to  concentrate  the  force  of  all  her  remaining  en- 
ergies in  urging  and  coaxing  forward  the  wearied 
horse,  until,  finally,  he  was  barely  able  to  reel  and 
etaggcr  along  at  a  slow  walk ;  and  when  she  was  about 
to  give  up  in  despair,  expecting  every  instant  that  the 
animal  would  drop  down  dead  under  her,  the  welcome 
light  of  day  dawned  in  the  eastern  horizon,  and  im- 
parted a  more  cheerful  and  encouraging  influence 
over  her,  and,  on  looking  around,  to  her  great  joy, 
there  were  no  wolves  in  sight. 

She  now,  for  the  first  time  in  about  thirty-six  hours, 
dismounted,  and  knowing  that  sleep  would  soon  over- 
power her,  and  the  horse,  if  not  secured,  might  escape 
or  wander  away,  and  there  being  no  tree  or  other 
object  to  which  he  could  be  fastened,  she,  with  great 
presence  of  mind,  tied  one  end  of  the  long  lariat  to 
his  neck,  and,  with  the  other  end  around  her  waist, 
dropped  down  upon  the  ground  in  a  deep  sleep,  while 
the  fiimished  lio/se  eagerly  cropped  the  herbage 
around  her. 

Sho   was   unconscious  as   to   the   duration  of  her 


282 


THE  HEROINES  OF  THE  SOUTHWEST. 


slumber,  but  it  must  have  been  very  protracted  to 
have  compensated  the  demands  of  nature,  for  the  ex- 
haustion induced  by  her  prodigious  ride. 

Her  sleep  was  sweet,  and  she  dreamed  of  happiness 
and  home,  losing  all  consciousness  of  her  actual  situa- 
tion until  she  was  suddenly  startled  and  aroused  by 
the  pattering  sound  of  horses'  feet,  beating  the  earth 
on  every  side. 

Springing  to  her  feet  in  the  greatest  possible 
alarm,  she  found  herself  surrounded  by  a  large  band 
of  savages,  who  commenced  dancing  around,  flouting 
their  war-clubs  in  terrible  proximity  to  her  head,  while 
giving  utterance  to  the  most  diabolical  shouts  of  exul- 
tation. «  • 

Her  exceedingly  weak  and  debilitated  condition  at 
this  time,  resulting  from  long  abstinence  from  food, 
and  unprecedented  mental  and  physical  trials,  had 
wrought  upon  her  nervous  system  to  such  an  extent 
that  she  imagined  the  moment  of  her  death  had 
arrived,  and  fainted. 

The  Indians  then  approached,  and,  after  she  revived, 
placed  her  again  upon  a  horse,  and  rode  away  with 
her  to  their  camp,  which,  fortunately,  was  not  far  dis- 
tant. They  then  turned  their  prisoner  over  to  the 
squaws,  who  gave  her  food  and  put  her  to  bed ;  but  it 
was  several  days  before  she  was  sufficiently  recovered 
to  be  able  to  walk  about  the  camp. 

She  learned  that  her  lost  captors  belonged  to  "  Lone 
Wolf's"  band  of  Kio.:ai^. 

Although  these  Indians  treated  her  witli  more  kind- 
ness than  the  Comanches  had  done,  yet  she  did  not 
for  an  instant  entertain  the  thouglit  that  thoy  would 
ever  voluntarily  release  her   from  bondage;   neither 


T 


7/ 


ANOTHER  ESCAPE. 


283 


7/ 


bad  she  the  remotest  conception  of  her  present  locality, 
or  of  the  direction  or  distance  to  any  white  settlement ; 
but  she  had  no  idea  of  remaining  a  slave  for  life,  and 
resolved  to  make  her  escape  the  first  practicable  mo- 
ment that  offered. 

During  the  time  she  remained  with  these  Indians 
a  party  of  men  went  away  to  the  north,  and  were 
absent  six  days,  bringing  with  them,  on  their  return, 
some  ears  of  green  corn.  She  knew  the  prairie  tribes 
never  planted  a  seed  of  any  description,  and  was 
therefore  con^dent  the  party  had  visited  a  white  set- 
tlement, and  that  it  was  not  over  three  days'  journey 
distant.  This  was  encouraging  intelligence  for  her, 
and  she  anxiously  bided  her  time  to  depart. 

Late  one  night,  after  all  had  become  hushed  and 
quiet  throughout  the  camp,  and  every  thing  seemed 
auspicious  for  the  consummation  of  her  purposes,  she 
stole  carefully  away  from  her  bed,  crept  softly  out  to 
the  herd  of  horses,  and  after  having  caught  and  sad- 
dled one,  was  in  the  act  of  mounting,  when  a  number 
of  dogs  rushed  out  after  her,  and  by  their  barking, 
created  such  a  disturbance  among  the  Indians  that  she 
was  forced,  for  the  time,  to  forego  her  designs  and 
crawl  hastily  back  to  her  lodge. 

On  a  subsequent  occasion,  however,  fortune  favored 
her.  She  secured  an  excellent  horse  and  rode  away 
in  the  direction  from  which  she  had  seen  the  Indians 
returning  to  camp  with  the  green  corn.  Under  the 
certain  guidance  of  the  sun  and  stars  she  was  enabled 
to  pursue  a  direct  bearing,  and  after  three  consecutive 
days  of  rapid  riding,  anxiety,  fatigue,  and  hanger,  she 
arrived  upon  the  border  of  a  large  river,  flowing 
directly  across  her  track.     The  stream  was  swollen  to 


I 


"F" 


, 


284 


THE  HEROINES  OF  THE  SOUTHWEST. 


the  top  of  its  banks ;  the  water  coursed  like  a  torrent 
through  its  channel,  and  she  feared  her  horse  might 
not  be  able  to  stem  the  powerful  current ;  but  after 
surmounting  the  numerous  perils  and  hardships  she 
had  already  encountered,  the  dauntless  woman  was 
not  to  be  turned  aside  from  her  inflexible  purpose  by 
this  formidable  obstacle,  and  she  instantly  dashed  into 
the  foaming  torrent,  and,  by  dint  of  encouragement 
and  punishment,  forced  her  horse  through  the  stream 
and  landed  safely  upon  the  opposite  bank. 

After  giving  her  horse  a  few  moments'  rest,  she  again 
set  forward,  and  had  ridden  but  a  short  distance  when, 
to  her  inexpressible  astonishment  and  delight,  she 
struck  {.  broad  and  well-beaten  wagon-road,  the  first 
and  only  evidence  or  trace  of  civilization  she  had  seen 
since  leaving  her  home  in  Texas. 

Up  to  this  joyful  moment  the  indomitable  inflexi- 
bility of  purpose  of  our  heroine  had  not  faltered  for 
an  instant,  neither  had  she  suffered  the  slightest 
despondency,  in  view  of  the  terrible  array  of  disheart- 
ening circumstances  that  had  continually  confronted 
her,  but  when  she  realized  the  hopeful  prospect  before 
her  of  a  speedy  escape  from  the  reach  of  her  barbar- 
ous captors,  and  a  reasonable  certainty  of  an  early 
reunion  with  people  of  her  own  sympathizihg  race, 
the  feminine  elements  of  her  nature  preponderated, 
her  stoical  fortitude  yielded  to  the  delightful  anticipa- 
tion, and  her  joy  was  intensified  and  confirmed  by 
seeing,  at  this  moment,  a  long  train  of  wagons 
approaching  over  the  distant  prairie. 

The  spectacle  overwhelmed  her  with  ecstasy,  and 
she  wept  tears  of  joy  while  offering  up  sincere  and 


Js, 


•fmmm^rm 


AN  EXTRAORDINARY  SPECTACLE. 


285 


-A. 


'Ti- 


heartfelt  thanks  to  the  Almighty  for  delivering  her  ^ 
from  a  bondage  more  dreadful  than  death. 

She  then  proceeded  on  until  she  met  the  wagons  in 
charge  of  Mr.  Robert  Bent,  whom  she  entreated  to 
give  her  food  instantly,  as  she  was  in  a  state  bordering 
upon  absolute  starvation.  He  kindly  complied  with 
her  request,  and  after  the  cravings  of  her  appetite  had 
been  appeased  he  desired  to  gratify  his  curiosity,  which 
had  been  not  a  little  excited  at  the  unusual  exhibition 
of  a  beautiful  white  woman  appearing  alone  in  that 
wild  country,  riding  upon  an  Indian  saddle,  with  no 
covering  on  her  head  save  her  long  natural  hair,  which 
was  hanging  loosely  and  disorderly  about  her  should- 
ers. Accordingly,  he  inquired  of  her  where  she  lived, 
to  which  she  replied,  "In  Texas."  Mr.  B.  gave  an  in- 
credulous shake  of  his  head  at  this  response,  remarking 
at  the  same  time  that  he  thought  she  must  be  mista- 
ken, as  Texas  happened  to  be  situated  some  five  or  six 
hundred  miles  distant.  She  reiterated  the  assurance 
of  her  statement,  and  described  to  him  briefly  the  lead- 
ing incidents  attending  her  capture  and  escape ;  but 
still  he  was  inolined  to  doubt,  believing  that  she  might 
possibly  be  insane. 

He  informed  her  that  the  river  she  had  just  crossed 
was  the  Arkansas,  and  that  she  was  then  on  the  old 
Santa  F6  road,  about  fifteen  miles  west  of  Big  Turkey 
Creek,  where  she  would  find  the  most  remote  frontier 
house.  Then,  after  thanking  him  for  his  kindness,  she 
bade  him  adieu,  and  started  away  in  a  walk  toward  the 
settlements,  while  he  continued  his  journey  in  the  oppo- 
site direction. 

On  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Bent  at  Fort  Zara,  lie  called 
upon  the  Indian  agent,  and  reported  the  circumstance 


T 


286 


THE  HEROINES  OF  THE  SOUTHWEST. 


•     ) 


3 


of  meeting  Mrs.  L- 


-,  and,  by  a  singular  coinci- 


dence, it  so  happened  that  the  agent  was  at  that  very 
time  holding  a  council  with  the  chiefs  of  the  identical 
band  of  Indians  from  whom  she  had  last  escaped,  and 
they  had  just  given  a  full  history  of  the  entire  affair, 
which  seemed  so  improbable  to  the  agent  that  he  was 
not  disposed  to  credit  it  until  he  received  its  confirma- 
tion through  Mr.  Bent.  He  at  once  dispatched  a  man 
to  follow  the  woman  and  conduct  her  to  Council  Grove, 
where  she  was  kindly  received,  and  remained  for  some 
time,  hoping  through  the  efforts  of  the  agents  to  gain 
intelligence  of  the  two  children  she  had  left  with  the 
Comanches,  as  she  desired  to  take  them  back  to  their 
father  in  Texas  j  but  no  tidings  were  gained  for  a  long 
while. 

The  two  captive  children  were  afterwards  ransomed 
and  sent  home  to  their  father. 

It  will  readily  be  seen,  by  a  reference  to  the  map 

of  the  country  over  which  Mrs.  li passed,  that 

the  distance  from  the  place  of  her  capture  to  the  point 
where  she  struck  the  A^'kansas  river  could  not  have 
been  short  of  about  five  hundred  miles,  and  the  greater 
part  of  this  immense  expanse  of  desert  plain  she 
traversed  alone,  without  seeing  a  single  civilized  human 
habitation. 

It  may  well  be  questioned  whether  any  woman 
either  in  ancient  or  modern  times  ever  performed  such 
a  remarkable  equestrian  feat,  and  the  story  itself  would 
be  almost  incredible  were  we  not  in  possession  of  so 
many  well  authenticated  instances  of  the  hardihood 
and  powers  of  endurance  shown  by  woman  on  the 
frontiers  of  our  country. 


-fV 


f 


4*^1-  • 


-T'V 


-fr 


OHAPTEE  XIII. 

WOMAN'S  EXPERIENCE  ON  THE  NORTHERN  BORDER. 

THE  vanguard  of  the  "  Great  Army "  which  for 
nearly  tliree  centuries  has  been  hewing  its  path- 
way across  the  continent,  may  be  divided  into  certain 
cor^ps  d'armSe,  each  of  which  moves  on  a  different  line, 
thus  acting  on  the  Napoleonic  tactics,  and  subjugating 
in  detail  the  various  regions  through  which  it  passes. 
One  corps,  spreading  out  in  broad  battalions,  marches 
across  the  great  pranries  and  winding  through  the 
gorges  of  the  Rocky  mountains,  encamps  on  the 
shore  of  Peaceful  sea :  another,  skirting  the  waves  of 
the  gulfs  and  foMing  the  wide  rivers  of  the  South, 
plants  its  outposts  on  the  Rio  Grande;  a  third  cuts 
its  way  through  the  trackless  forests  on  the  northern 
border  till  it  strikes  the  lakes,  and  then  crossing  these 
inland  seas  or  passing  round  them,  pauses  and  breathes 
for  a  season  in  that  great  expanse  known  as  the  coun- 
try of  the  Red  River  of  the  North. 

Each  of  these  mighty  pioneer  divisions  has  its  com- 
mon toils,  dangers,  and  sufferings.  Each,  too,  has 
toils,  dangers,  and  sufferings  peculiar  to  itself.  The 
climate  is  the  deadly  foe  of  the  northern  pioneer. 
The  scorching  air  of  a  brief  summer  is  followed  closely 
by  the  biting  frost  of  a  long  winter.  The  snow,  piled 
in  d  if ts,  blocks  his  passage  and  binds  him  to  his 
threshold.  Sometimes  by  a  sudden  change  in  the 
temperature  a  thaw  converts  the  vast  frozen  mass  into 

(287)  j^^g^ 


288  WOMAirS  EXPERIENCE  ON  THE  BORDER, 

slush.  In  the  depth  of  those  arctic  winters  sometimes 
fire,  that  necessary  but  dangerous  serf,  breaks  its 
chains  and  devastates  its  master's  dwelling ;  then  frost 
allies  its  power  to  that  of  fire,  and  the  household  often 
succumbs  to  disaster,  or  barely  survives  it. 

Fire,  frost,  starvation,  and  wild  beasts  made  frantic 
by  winter's  hunger,  are  the  imminent  perils  of  the 
northern  pioneer ! 

The  record  of  woman  in  these  regions  on  the  north- 
ern frontier  is  crowded  with  incidents  which  display  a 
heroism  as  stern,  a  hardihood  as  rugged,  a  fortitude  as 
steadfast,  as  was  ever  shown  by  her  sex  under  thf 
most  trying  situations  into  which  she  is  brought  bj 
the  exigencies  of  border  life. 

Such  a  record  is  that  of  Mrs.  Dalton,  who  spent  he-? 
life  from  early  womanhood  in  that  region. 

Naturally  of  a  frail  and  delicate  organization,  reare<i 
in  the  ease  and  luxury  of  an  eastern  home,  and  po? 
sessed  of  those  strong  local  attachments  which  ar*. 
characteristic  of  females  of  her  temperament,  it  waA 
with  the  utmost  reluctance  that  she  consented  to  fol- 
low her  husband  into  the  wilderness.  Having  at  last 
consented,  she  showed  the  greatest  firmness  in  carry- 
mg  out  a  resolution  which  involved  the  loss  of  a  happy 
home  at  the  place  of  her  nativity,  and  consigned  her 
to  a  life  of  hardship  and  danger. 

Her  first  experience  in  this  life  was  in  the  wilds  of 
northern  New  York,  her  husband  having  purchased 
a  small  clearing  and  a  log-cabin  in  that  region  on 
the  banks  of  the  Black  river.  She  was  transported 
thitbei',  reaching  her  destination  one  cold  rainy  even- 
ing early  in  May,  after  a  wearisome  journey,  for  this 
was  before  the  days  of  rapid  transit. 


-^Z- 


p^i 


A  HOME  IN  THE  FOREST. 


289 


Hr- 


Her  first  impressions  must  have  been  gloomy  in- 
deed. Without  was  pouring  rain  and  a  black  sky ; 
the  forest  was  dark  as  Erebus ;  within  no  fire  blazed 
on  the  hearth  in  the  only  room  on  the  first  floor  of 
the  cabin,  and  the  flickering  light  of  a  tallow  candle 
made  the  darkness  but  the  more  visible ;  a  rude  table 
and  settles  made  out  of  rough  planks,  were  all  the 
furniture  the  cabin  could  boast ;  there  was  no  ladder 
to  reach  the  loft  which  was  to  be  her  sleeping  room  ; 
the  only  window,  without  sash  or  glass,  was  a  mere 
opening  in  the  side  of  the  cabin ;  the  rain  beat  in 
through  the  cracks  in  the  door  and  through  the  open 
window,  and  trickled  through  the  roof,  which  was  like 
a  sieve,  while  the  wind  blew  keenly  through  a  hundred 
seams  and  apertures  in  the  log-walls. 

The  night,  the  cold,  the  storm,  the  dark  and  cheer- 
less abode,  were  too  much  to  bear ;  the  delicate  young 
wife  threw  herself  upon  a  settle  and  burst  into  a 
flood  of  tears.  This  was  but  a  momentary  weakness. 
Rising  above  the  depression  produced  by  the  dreary 
scene,  the  woman's  genius  for  creating  comfort  out 
of  the  slenderest  materials  and  bringing  sunshine  into 
darkness,  soon  began  to  manifest  itself. 

We  will  not  detail  the  various  trials  and  cares  by 
which  that  forlorn  cabin  was  transformed  into  a  com- 
fortable home,  nor  how  fared  Mrs.  Dal  ton  the  first 
rather  uneventful  year  of  her  life  in  the  woods.  The 
second  spring  saw  her  a  mother,  and  the  following 
autumn  she  became  again  a  homeless  westward  wan- 
derer. Her  husband  had  sold  the  cabin  and  clearing 
in  New  York,  and  having  purchased  an  extensive  tract 
of  forest-land  a  few  miles  south  of  Georgian  Bay  in 
Upper  Canada,  decided  to  move  thither. 
19 


290 


WOMAN'S  EXPERIENCE  ON  THE  BORDER. 


^: 


The  family  with  their  household  goods  took  sloop 
on  Lake  Ontario  late  in  October,  and  sailed  to  To- 
ronto ;  from  this  place  on  the  15th  day  of  November, 
they  proceeded  across  the  peninsula  in  sleighs.  Their 
party  consisted  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dalton  and  their 
child,  and  John  McMurray,  their  hired  man,  and  his 
wife. 

The  first  forty  miles  of  their  journey  lay  over  a 
well-beaten  road,  and  through  a  succession  of  clear- 
ings, which  soon  began  to  diminish  until  they  reached 
a  dense  forest,  which  rose  in  solemn  stillness  around 
them  and  cast  across  their  path  a  shadow  which 
seemed  to  the  imagination  of  Mrs.  Dalton  an  omen  of 
coming  evil.  '^ 

The  sun  had  now  set,  but  the  party  still  drove  on 
through  the  forest-shadows;  the  moon  having  risen 
giving  a  new  and  strange  beauty  to  the  scenery.  The 
infant  had  fallen  asleep.  A  deep  silence  fell  upon  the 
party;  night  was  above  them  with  her  mysterious 
stars;  the  ancient  forest  stretched  around  them  on 
every  side ;  nature  lay  wrapped  in  a  snowy  winding 
sheet;  the  wind  was  rising,  and  a  drifting  scud  of 
clouds  from  the  northeast  passed  across  the  moon, 
and  gave  a  still  more  weird  and  somber  character  to 
the  scene.  A  boding  sadness  sank  into  the  heart  of 
Mrs.  Dalton  as  the  sleighs  drove  up  to  the  cabin  in  the 
clearing  where  they  were  to  pass  the  night.  It  was 
occupied  by  an  old  negro  and  his  wife,  who  had  found 
in  the  Canadian  woods  a  safe  refuge  from  servitude. 

Hardly  had  they  and  their  horses  been  safely  be- 
stowed under  shelter  when  the  sky  became  entirely 
overcast,  the  wind  rose  to  a  gale,  and  a  driving  storm 
of  snow  and  sleet  filled  the  air.    All  night,  and  the 


«v^» 


-5- 


A  CORPSE  STANDING  IN  THE  SNOW. 


291 


-^s» 


-^ 


following  day  the  tempest  raged  without  intermission, 
and  on  the  morning  of  the  second  day  the  sun  strug- 
gling through  the  clouds  looked  down  on  the  vast 
drifts  of  snow,  some  of  them  nearly  twenty  feet  in 
depth,  completely  blocking  their  farther  passage,  and 
enforcing  a  sojourn  of  some  days  in  their  present 
quarters. 

During  this  time  the  babe  fell  ill,  and  grew  worse 
so  rapidly  that  Mr.  Dalton  determined  to  push  through 
the  snow-drifts  on  horseback  to  the  nearest  settlement, 
which  lay  eight  miles  south  of  them,  and  procure  the 
services  of  a  physician.  He  started  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, expecting  to  return  in  the  afternoon.  But  after- 
noon and  evening  passed,  and  still  Mr.  Dalton  did  not 
return.  His  course  was  a  difl&cult  one  through  forest 
and  thicket,  and  when  evening  came,  and  night  passed 
with  its  bitter  cold,  Mrs.  Dalton's  anxiety  was  increased 
to  torture.  Her  only  hope  was  that  her  husband  had 
reached  the  settlement  in  safety,  and  had  been  induced 
to  remain  there  till  the  following  morning  before  un- 
dertaking to  return. 

Soon  after  the  sun  rose  that  morning,  Mrs.  Dalton 
and  the  hired  man  set  out  on  horseback  in  search  of 
the  missing  one.  Tracing  his  course  through  the  snow 
for  four  miles  they  at  length  caught  sight  of  him 
standing  up  to  his  waist  in  a  deep  drift,  beside  his 
horse.  His  face  was  turned  toward  them.  So  life- 
like and  natural  was  his  position  that  it  was  only  when 
his  wife  grasped  his  cold  rigid  jfingers  that  she  knew 
the  terrible  truth.  Her  husband  and  the  horse  were 
statues  of  ice  thus  transformed  by  the  deadly  cold  as 
they  were  endeavoring  to  force  a  passage  through 
those  immense  drifts. 


"H^vt 


292 


WOMAN'S  EXPERIENCE  ON  THE  BOEDER. 


From  the  speechless,  tearless  trance  of  grief  into 
which  Mrs.  Dalton  wala  thrown  by  the  shock  of  her  aw- 
ful loss,  she  was  roused  only  by  the  recollection  of 
the  still  critical  condition  of  her  child  and  the  necessity 
that  she  should  administer  to  its  wants.  Its  recovery 
from  illness  a  few  days  after,  enabled  the  desolate  wid- 
ow to  cast  about  her  in  grief  and  doubt,  and  decide 
what  course  she  should  pursue. 

As  her  own  marriage  portion  as  well  as  the  entire 
fortune  of  her  late  husband  was  embarked  in  the  pur- 
chase of  the  forest  tract,  she  concluded  to  continue 
her  journey  twenty  miles  farther  to  the  point  of  het 
original  destination,  and  there  establish  herself  in  thfi 
new  house  which  had  been  provided  for  her  in  the  al» 
most  unbroken  wilderness. 

A  thaw  which  a  few  days  after  removed  a  large  body 
of  the  snow,  enabled  her  with  her  companions,  the 
McMurrays,  to  reach  her  destination,  a  large  and  com- 
modious cabin  built  of  cedar-logs  in  a  spacious  clearing 
by  the  former  owner  of  the  tract. 

Her  first  impressions  of  her  new  home  were  scarcely 
more  prepossessing  than  those  experienced  upon  reach- 
ing the  dreary  cabin  on  the  banks  of  the  Black  river, 
A  small  lake  hard  by  was  hemmed  in  by  a  .somber  belt 
of  pine-woods.  The  clearing  was  dotted  by  charred 
and  blackened  stumps,  and  covered  with  piles  of  brush- 
wood. The  snowy  shroud  in  which  lifeless  nature  was 
wrapped  and  the  utter  stillness  and  solitude  of  the 
scene,  completed  the  funereal  picture  which  Mrs.  D. 
viewed  with  eyes  darkened  by  grief  and  disappoint- 
ment. 

The  cares  and  labors  of  pioneer-life  are  the  best  an- 
tidotes to  the  corrosion  of  sorrow  and  regret,  and  Mrs. 


•V' 


4- 


BETWEEN  FROST  AND  FLAAfE. 


293 


Dalton  soon  found  such  a  relief  in  the  myriad  toils  and 
distractions  whicl'<  filled  those  wintry  days.  A  thou- 
sand duties  were  to  be  discharged :  a  thousand  wants 
to  be  provided  for :  night  brought  weariness  and  bles- 
sed oblivion :  morning  again  supplied  its  daily  tasks 
and  labor  grew  to  be  happiness. 

Midwinter  was  upon  them  with  its  bitter  cold  and 
drifting  snows ;  but  with  abundant  stores  of  food  and 
fuel,  Mrs.  D.  was  thanking  God  nightly  for  his  many 
mercies,  little  dreaming  that  a  new  calamity  impended 
over  her  household. 

One  bitter  day  ir,  January  the  two  women  were  left 
alone  in  the  cabin,  McMurray  having  gone  a  mile 
away  to  fell  trees  for  sawing  into  boards.  Mrs.  McM. 
had  stuffed  both  the  stoves  full  of  light  wood ;  the 
wind  blowing  steadily  from  the  northwest,  produced  a 
powerful  draught,  and  in  a  few  moments  the  roaring 
and  crackling  of  the  fire  and  the  suffocating  smell  of 
burning  soot  attracted  Mrs.  Dalton's  attention.  To 
her  dismay,  both  the  stoves  were  red  hot  from  the 
front  plates  to  the  topmost  pipes  which  passed  through 
the  plank-ceiling  and  projected  three  feet  above  the 
roof.  Through  these  pipes  the  flames  were  roaring  as 
if  through  the  chimney  of  a  blast  furnace. 

A  blanket  snatched  from  the  nearest  bed,  that  stood 
in  the  kitchen,  and  plunged  into  a  barrel  of  cold  water 
was  thrust  into  the  stove,  and  a  few  shovels  full  of 
snow  thrown  upon  it  soon  made  all  cool  below.  I'he 
two  women  immediately  hastened  to  the  loft  and  by 
dashing  pails  full  of  water  upon  the  pipes,  contrived 
to  cool  them  down  as  high  as  the  place  where  they 
passed  through  the  roof.  The  w(Tod  work  around  the 
pipes  showed  a  circle  of  glowing  embers,  the  water 


294 


W03fAN'S  EXPERIENCE  ON  THE  BORDER. 


r' 


i 

I 


f 


was  nearly  exhausted  and  both  the  -women  running 
out  of  the  house  discovered  that  the  roof  which  had 
been  covered  the  day  before  by  a  heavy  fall  of  snow, 
showed  an  area  of  several  square  feet  from  which  the 
intense  heat  had  melted  the  snow ;  the  sparks  falling 
upon  the  shingles  had  ignited  them,  and  the  rafters 
below  were  covered  by  a  sheet  of  flame. 

A  ladder,  which,  for  some  months,  had  stood  against 
the  house,  had  been  moved  two  days  before  to  the 
bam  which  stood  some  thirty  rods  away ;  there  seemed 
no  possibility  of  reaching  the  fire.  Moving  out  a 
large  table  and  placing  a  chair  upon  it,  Mrs.  D.  took 
her  position  upon  the  chair  and  tried  to  throw  water 
upon  the  roof,  but  only  succeeded  in  expending  the 
last  dipper  full  of  water  that  remained  in  the  boiler, 
without  reaching  the  fire. 

Mrs.  McMurray  now  abandoned  herself  to  grief  and 
despair,  screeching  and  tearing  her  hair.  Mrs.  D.,  still 
keeping  her  presence  of  mind,  told  her  to  run  after 
her  husband,  and  to  the  nearest  house,  which  was  a 
mile  away,  and  bring  help. 

Mrs.  McM.,  after  a  moment's  remonstrance,  on 
account  of  the  depth  of  the  snow,  regained  her  cour- 
age, and,  hastily  putting  on  her  husband's  boots, 
started,  shrieking  "fire!"  as  she  passed  up  the  road, 
and  disappeared  at  the  head  of  the  clearing. 

Mrs.  D.  was  now  quite  alone,  with  the  house  burn- 
ing over  her  head.  She  gazed  at  the  blazing  roof,  and, 
pausing  for  one  moment,  reflected  what  should  first 
be  done. 

The  house  was  built  of  cedar-logs,  and  the  suns  and 
winds  of  four  years  had  made  it  as  dry  as  tinder ;  the 
breeze  was  blowing  briskly  and  all  the  atmospheric 


~^\' 


¥ 


\\ .. 


mmsmm 


FIGHTING  FIRE. 


295 


/>- 


conditions  were  favorable  to  its  speedy  destr  action. 
The  cold  was  intense,  the  thermometer  registering 
eighteen  degrees  below  zero.  The  unfortunate  woman 
thus  saw  herself  placed  between  two  extremes  of  heat 
and  cold,  and  apprehended  as  much  danger  from  the 
one  as  from  the  other. 

In  the  bewilderment  of  the  moment,  the  direful 
extent  of  the  calamity  never  struck  her,  though  it 
promised  to  put  the  finishing  stroke  to  her  misfortune, 
and  to  throw  her  naked  and  houseless  upon  the  world. 

"What  shall  I  first  save?"  was  the  question  rap- 
idly asked,  and  as  quickly  answered.  Anything  to 
serve  for  warmth  and  shelter — bedding,  clothing,  to 
protect  herself  and  babe  from  that  cruel  cold!  All 
this  passed  her  mind  like  a  flash,  and  "^he  next  moment 
she  was  working  with  a  right  good  will  to  save  what 
she  coidd  of  these  essential  articles  from  her  burning 
house. 

Springing  to  the  loft  where  the  embers  were  falling 
from  the  burning  roof,  she  quickly  threw  the  beds  and 
bedding  from  the  window,  and  emptying  trunks  and 
chests  conveyed  their  contents  out  of  reach  of  the 
flames  and  of  the  burning  brands  which  the  wind  was 
whirling  from  the  roof.  The  loft  was  like  a  furnace, 
and  the  heat  soon  drove  her,  dripping  with  perspira- 
tion, to  the  lower  room,  where,  for  twenty  minutes, 
she  strained  every  nerve  to  drag  out  the  movables. 
Large  pieces  of  burning  pine  began  to  fall  through 
the  boarded  ceiling  about  the  lower  rooms,  and  as  the 
babe  had  been  placed  under  a  large  dresser  in  the 
kitchen,  it  now  became  absolutely  necessary  to  re- 
move it.  But  where?  The  p.ir  was  so  bitter  that 
nothing  but  the  fierce  excitement  ana  rapid  morion 


296 


WOMAN'S  EXPERIENCE  ON  THE  BORDER. 


I'i 


had  preserved  Mrs.  Dalton's  hands  and  feet  from  freez, 
ing.  To  expose  the  tender  nursling  to  that*  direful 
col  J  was  almost  as  cruel  as  leaving  it  to  the  mercy  of 
the  fire. 

A  mother's  wit  is  not  long  at  fault  where  the  safety 
of  her  child  is  concerned.  Emptying  out  all  the 
clothes  from  a  large  drawer  which  she  had  dragged  a 
safe  distance  from  the  house,  she  lined  it  with  blank- 
ets and  placed  the  child  inside,  covering  it  well  over 
with  bedding,  and  keeping  it  well  wrapped  up  till  help 
should  arrive. 

The  roof  was  now  burning  like  a  brush  heap ;  but  aid 
was  near  at  hand.  As  she  passed  out  of  the  house  for 
the  last  time,  dragging  a  heavy  chest  of  clothes,  she 
looked  once  more  despairingly  up  the  clear'Tig  and 
saw  a  man  running  at  full  speed.  It  was  McMurray. 
Her  burdened  heart  uttered  a  deep  thanksgiving,  as 
another  and  another  figure  came  skipping  over  the 
snow  towards  her  burning  house. 

She  had  not  felt  the  intense  cold,  although  without 
bonnet  or  shawl,  and  with  hands  bare  and  exposed  to 
the  biting  air.  The  intense  anxiety  to  save  all  she 
could  had  so  diverted  her  thoughts  from  herself  that 
she  took  no  heed  of  the  peril  in  which  she  stood  from 
fire  and  frost.  But  now  the  reaction  came ;  her  knees 
trembled  imder  her,  she  grew  gi(3dy  and  faint,  and 
dark  shadows  swam  before  her. 

The  three  men  sprang  on  the  roof  and  called  for 
water  in  vain ;  it  hd  long  been  exhausted.  "  Snow ! 
enow !  Hand  us  up  pails  full  of  snow ! "  they 
fihouted. 

It  was  bitter  work  filling  the  pails  with  frozen  snow, 
but  the  two  women  (for  Mrs.  McMurray  had  now 


4 


dtt 


Ii 


A  GLIMPSE  OF  HAPPINESS. 


29r 


returned)  scooped  up  pails  full  of  snow  with  their 
bare  hands  and  passed  them  to  the  men  on  the  roof 

By  spreading  this  on  the  roof,  and  on  the  floor  of 
the  loft,  the  violence  of  the  fire  wj  s  checked.  The 
men  then  cast  away  the  smoldering  rafters  and  flung 
them,  in  the  snow-drifts. 

The  roof  was  gone,  but  the  fire  was  at  last  subdued 
before  it  had  destroyed  the  walls.  Within  one  week 
from  the  time  of  the  fire  tli*^  neighboring  settlers  built 
a  new  roof  for  Mrs.  Dalton  m  spite  of  the  intense 
cold,  and  while  it  was  building  Mrs.  D.  and  her  house- 
hold were  sheltered  at  the  nearest  cabin. 

The  warm  breath  of  spring  brought  with  it  some 
halcyon  days,  as  if  to  reconcile  Mrs.  Dalton  to  her  life 
of  solitude  and  toil.  The  pure  beauty  of  the  crystal 
waters,  the  august  grandeur  of  the  vast  forest,  and 
the  aromatic  breezes  from  the  pines  and  birches,  c  ist 
a  magic  spell  upon  her  spirit.  She  soon  learned  the 
use  of  the  rifle,  the  paddle,  and  the  fishing  rod. 
Charming  hours  of  leisure  and  freedom  were  passed 
upon  the  water  of  the  lake,  or  in  rambles  through  the 
e^uhci;  of  the  forest.  In  ihese  pleasures,  enhanced  by 
tlif:  i>  -cdful  toils  of  the  household  or  the  field,  the 
?<ped  away. 

o  came,  and  the  little  harvest  of  oats  and 
corn  were  all  safely  housed.  For  some  days  the 
weather  had  been  intensely  hot,  although  Jie  sun  was 
entirely  obscured  by  a  bluish  haze,  vvhich  seemed  to 
render  the  unusual  heat  of  the  atmosphere  more 
oppressive.  Not  a  breath  of  air  stirred  the  vast  forest, 
and  the  waters  of  the  lake  took  on  a  leaden  hue. 

?-  foio  the  sun  rose  on  the  morning  of  the  12th  the 
heavens  were  covered  with  hard  looking  clouds  of  a 


Ml 


i 
I 


hi 


298 


WOMAN'S  EXPERIENCE  ON  THE  BORDER. 


deep  blue-black  color,  fading  away  to  white  at  Lheir 
edges,  and  in  form  resembling  the  long,  rolling  waves 
of  a  heavy  sea,  but  with  the  difference  uiat  the  clouds 
were  perfectly  motionless,  piled  in  long  curved  lines, 
one  above  the  other. 

As  the  sun  rose  above  the  horizon,  the  sky  present- 
ed a  magnificent  spectacle.  Every  shade  of  saffron, 
gold,  rose-color,  scarlet,  and  crimson,  mottled  with  the 
deepest  violet,  were  blei  r'cd  there  as  on  some  enor- 
mous tapestry.  It  was  the  ;  -fiend  who  shook  that 
gorgeous  banner  in  the  face  oi    he  day-god ! 

As  the  day  advanced  the  same  blue  haze  obscured 
the  sun,  which  frowned  redly  through  his  misty  veil. 
At  ten  o'clock  the  heat  was  suffocating.  The  ther- 
mometer in  the  shade  ranged  after  midday  from  nine- 
ty-six to  ninety-eight  degrees.  The  babe  stretched 
itself  upon  the  floor  of  the  cabin,  unable  to  jump 
about  or  play,  the  dog  lay  panting  in  the  shade,  the 
fowls  half-buried  themselves  in  the  dust,  with  open 
beaks  and  outstretched  wings.  All  nature  seemed  to 
droop  beneath  the  scorching  heat.  At  three  o'clock 
the  heavens  took  on  a  sudden  change.  The  clouds, 
that  had  before  lain  so  still,  were  now  in  rapid  motion, 
hurrying  and  chasing  each  other  round  the  horizon. 
It  was  a  strangely  awful  sight.  Before  a  breath  had 
been  felt  of  the  mighty  blast  that  had  already  burst 
on  the  other  side  of  the  lake,  branches  of  trees,  leaves, 
and  clouds  of  dust  were  whirled  across  the  water, 
which  rose  in  long,  sharp  furrows,  fringed  with  foam, 
as  if  moved  in  their  depths  by  some  unseen  but  pow- 
erful agent. 

The  hurricane  swept  up  the  hill,  crushing  and  over- 
turning everything  in  its  course.    Mrs.  Dalton,  stand- 


T 
II 


•«v4k» 


L 


m 


IN  THE  WHIRLWIND'S  TRACK. 


299 


•^liK' 


:%- 


li^ 


^ 


ing  at  the  open  door  of  her  cabin,  speechless  and 
motionles»,  gazed  at  the  tremendous  spectacle.  The 
babe  crept  to  its  mother's  feet,  its  cheeks  like  marble, 
and  appealed  to  her  for  protection.  Mrs.  McMurray, 
in  helpless  terror,  had  closed  her  eyes  and  ears  to  the 
storm,  and  sat  upon  a  chest,  muffled  in  a  shawl. 

The  storm  had  not  yet  reached  its  acme.  The 
clouds,  in  huge  cumuli,  were  hurrying  as  to  some 
great  rendezvous,  from  which  they  were  to  be  let  loose 
for  their  work  of  destruction.  The  roaring  of  the 
blast  and  the  pealing  of  the  thunder  redoubled  in 
violence.  Turning  her  eyes  to  the  southwest,  Mrs. 
Dalton  now  saw,  far  down  the  valley,  the  tops  of  the 
huge  trees  twisted  and  bowed,  as  if  by  some  unseen 
but  terrible  power.  A  monstrous  dun-colored  cloud 
marked  the  course  of  this  new  storm-titan.  Nearer 
and  nearer  it  came,  with  a  menacing  rumbla,  and 
swifter  than  a  race-horse. 

The  cabin  lay  directly  in  its  track.  In  a  moment  it 
would  be  upon  them.  Whither  should  they  fly  ?  One 
place  of  safety  occurred  on  the  instant  to  the  unfor- 
tunate woman ;  clasping  her  babe  to  her  breast  and 
clutching  the  gown  of  her  companion,  she  ran  to  the 
trap-door  which  conducted  to  the  cellar  and  raising  it 
pushed  Mrs.  McMurray  down  the  aperture  and  quickly 
following  her,  Mrs.  Dalton  closed  the  trap. 

Not  five  seconds  later  the  hurricane  struck  the  cabin 
with  such  force  that  every  plank,  rafter,  beam,  and 
log  was  first  dislocated  and  then  caught  up  in  the 
whirlwind  and  scattered  over  the  forest  in  the  wake 
^i  the  storm.  As  the  roar  of  the  blast  died  away  the 
rain  commenced  pouring  in  torrents  accompanied  by 
vivid  flashes  of  lightning  and  loud  peals  of  thunder. 


II 


300 


WOMAN'S  EXPERIENCE  ON  THE  BORDER. 


it 


!f- 


The  air  in  the  close  shallow  cellar,  where  the  wo- 
men were,  soon  grew  suffocating,  and  as  the  fury  of 
the  tempest  was  spent,  they  took  courage  and  pushed 
at  the  trap.  It  stuck  fast ;  again  they  both  applied 
their  shoulders  to  it  but  only  succeeded  in  raising  it 
far  enough  to  see  that  the  trunk  of  an  enormous  tree 
lay  directly  across  the  door. 

The  cellar  in  which  they  were,  was  little  more  than 
a  large  pit,  eight  feet  by  six,  and  served  as  a  recepta- 
cle for  their  winter's  stores ;  as  it  lay  directly  in  the 
center  of  the  floor  which  was  formed  of  large  logs 
split  in  halves  and  their  surfaces  smoothed,  there  was 
no  mode  of  egress  except  by  digging  underneath  the 
floor  as  far  as  the  walls  of  the  cabin  and  so  emerging; 
but  this  was  a  work  of  extreme  difficulty,  owing  to  the 
fact  that  the  soil  was  full  of  the  old  roots  of  trees 
wixich  had  been  cut  down  to  make  room  for  the  cabin. 

The  first  danger,  however,  was  from  suffocation ;  to 
meet  this  Mrs.  Dalton  and  her  companion  pried  open 
the  door  as  far  as  the  fallen  trunk  would  allow,  and 
kept  it  in  position  by  means  of  a  large  chip  which  they 
found  in  the  pit.  This  gave  them  sufficient  air  through 
a  chink  three  inches  in  width ;  and  they  next  ]•  oked 
about  them  for  means  of  egress.  After  trying  in  vain 
to  dislodge  one  of  the  floor  logs,  they  proceeded  to 
dig  a  passage  through  the  earth  underneath  the  floor. 
Discouraged  by  the  slowness  of  their  progress  in  this 
undertaking,  and  drenched  with  the  rain  which  poured 
in  through  the  crevice  in  the  door,  they  began  to  give 
themselves  up  for  lost.  Their  only  hope  was  that 
McMurray  or  some  one  of  the  neighbors  would  come 
to  their  relief. 

The  rain  lasted  only  one  hour,  and  the  sun  soon 


BURIED  ALIVE. 


301 


t 


made  its  appearance.  This  was  after  six  o'clock,  as 
the  prisoners  judged  from  the  shadows  cast  over  the 
ruins  of  the  cabin.  The  shades  of  evening  fell  and  at 
last  utter  darkness ;  still  no  one  came.  No  sound  was 
borne  to  the  ears  of  the  women  in  their  earthly  dun- 
geon save  that  of  the  rushing  waters  of  the  creek  and 
the  mournful  liowling  of  wolves  who,  like  jackals,  were 
prowling  in  the  track  of  the  tempest.  Several  of 
these  animals,  attracted  by  the  infant's  cries,  came  and 
put  their  noses  at  the  door  of  the  pit  and  finding  that 
it  held  prey,  paced  the  floor  above  it  all  night :  but 
with  the  first  light  of  morning  they  scampered  away 
into  the  woods. 

Meanwhile  the  women  resumed  their  efforts  to  bur- 
row their  way  out,  taking  turns  in  working  all  night. 
By  daybreak  the  passage  lacked  only  four  feet  of  the 
point  where  an  outlet  could  be  had.  Ere  noon,  if  their 
strength  held  out,  they  would  reach  the  open  air. 

But  after  four  hours  more  of  severe  toil  they  met 
an  unexpected  obstacle :  their  progress  was  blocked 
by  a  huge  boulder  embedded  in  the  soil.  "Weary  with 
their  protracted  toil  and  loss  of  sleep,  and  faint  from 
want  of  food,  they  desisted  from  further  efforts  and 
sat  down  upon  the  damp  earth  of  that  dungeon  which 
now  promised  to  be  their  tomb. 

Sinking  upon  her  knees  Mrs.  Dalton  lifted  her  heart 
to  God  in  prayer  that  he  might  save  her  babe,  her 
faithful  domestic  and  herself  from  the  doom  which 
threatened  them.  Hardly  had  she  risen  from  her 
knees,  when,  as  if  a  messenger  had  been  sent  in  an- 
swer to  her  prayer,  voices  were  heard  and  steps 
sounded  upon  the  floor  above  them.  The  party  had 
come  from  a  neighboring  settlement  for  the  express 


WOMAN'S  EXPERIENCE  ON  THE  BORDER. 


lOBe  of  relieving  the  sufferers  from  the  recent 
A  few  blows  with  an  axe  and  the  prisoners 
iirere  free.  Recognizing  their  preservation  as  a  direct 
answer  to  prayer,  and  with  deep  gratitude  both  of  the 
women  fell  on  their  knees  and  lifted  up  their  hearts  in 
humble  thanksgiving  to  that  God  who  had  saved  them 
by  an  act  of  his  providence  from  an  awful  death. 
When  all  hope  was  gone  His  hand  was  stretched  forth, 
making  his  strength  manifest  in  the  weakness  of  those 
hapless  women  and  that  helpless  babe. 

Before  the  first  of  October  a  new  cabin  had  been 
built  for  Mrs.  D.  by  her  generous  neighbors,  and  the 
other  ravages  of  the  storm  had  been  repaired.  Once 
more  fortune,  so  often  adverse,  turned  a  smiling  face 
upon  the  household.  Two  weeks  sped  away  and  then 
the  fickle  goddess  frowned  again  upon  this  mucn  en* 
during  family. 

A  long  continued  drought  had  parched  the  fields 
and  woods  until  but  a  spark  was  needed  to  kindle  a 
conflagration.  Two  parties  of  hunters  on  the  16th  of 
October,  had  rested  one  noon  on  opposite  sides  of  Mrs. 
Dalton's  clearing  and  carelessly  dropped  sparks  from 
their  pipes  into  the  dried  herbage.  Two  hours  after 
their  departure,  the  flames,  fanned  by  a  gentle  breeze, 
had  formed  a  junction  and  encircled  the  cabin  with  a 
wall  of  fire.  A  dense  canopy  of  smoke  hung  over 
the  clearing,  and  as  it  lifted,  tongues  of  flame  could  be 
seen  licking  the  branches  of  the  tall  pines.  Showers 
of  sparks  fell  upon  the  roof.  The  atmosphere  grew 
suffocating  with  the  pitchy  smoke  and  it  became  a 
choice  of  deaths,  either  that  of  choking  or  that  of 
burning. 

Only  one  avenue  of  escape  was  left  open  to  the  fam- 


•■■wiiO  H^ir^Ri  ■ 


mtm 


i 


1 1 


4 

i 


THE  FIRE  EXTJNGVISnED. 


303 


ily ;  if  they  could  reach  the  lake  and  embark  in  the 
canoe  which  lay  moored  near  the  shore  they  would  bo 
safe :  a  single  passage  conducted  to  the  water,  and 
that  was  a  burning  lane  lined  with  trees  and  bushes 
which  were  bursting  into  fiercer  flames  every  moment 
as  they  gazed  down  it. 

Nearer  and  nearer  crept  the  fire,  and  hotter  and 
hotter  grew  the  choking  air.  There  was  no  other 
choice.  McMurray  threw  water  on  the  gowns  of  his 
wife  and  Mrs.  Dalton  until  they  were  drenched ;  then 
wrapping  the  baby  in  a  blanket  and  enveloping  their 
heads  in  shawls,  the  whole  paiiy  abandoned  their 
house  to  destruction,  and  ran  the  gauntlet  of  the 
flames.  They  passed  tlie  spot  of  ordeal  in  safety, 
reached  the  canoe  and  embarking  pushed  off  into  the 
lake.  From  this  point  of  security  they  caught  glimpses 
of  the  element  as  it  crept  steadily  on  its  way  towards 
the  cabin.  Through  the  rifts  in  the  smoke  they  saw 
the  fiery  tongues  licking  the  lower  timbers  and  dart- 
ing themselves  into  the  cracks  between  the  logs  like 
some  gluttonous  monster  preparing  to  gorge  himself. 
The  women  clasped  their  hands  and  looked  up.  Both 
were  supplicating  the  Father  of  All  that  their  homo 
might  be  spared. 

A  rescue  was  coming  from  an  unlooked  for  source. 
While  Mrs.  Dalton's  face  was  upturned  to  heaven  in 
silent  prayer,  a  large  drop  splashed  upon  her  brow ; 
another  followed — the  first  glad  heralds  of  a  pouring 
rain  which  extinguished  the  fire  just  as  it  had  begun 
to  feed  on  that  unlucky  habitation. 

After  such  an  almost  unbroken  series  of  disasters 
and  losses,  we  might  well  inquire  whether  the  subse- 


ill 


^r 


304 


WOMAN'S  EXPERIENCE  ON  THE  BORDER. 


; 


i 


quent  life  of  Mrs.  Dalton  was  saddened  and  darkened 
by  similar  experiences. 

"Every  cloud  has  a  silver  lining."  The  hardest 
and  saddest  lives  have  their  hoars  of  softness,  their 
gleams  of  sunshine.  It  is  a  wise  and  beautiful  arrange- 
ment in  the  economy  of  Divine  Providence  that  the 
law  of  physical  and  moral  compensation  is  always  op- 
erating to  equalize  the  pains  and  the  pleasures,  the 
hardships  and  the  comforts,  the  joys  and  the  sorrows 
of  human  life.  Before  continuous,  patient,  and  con- 
scientious endeavors,  the  obstacles  that  fill  the  path- 
way of  the  pioneer  through  the  wilderness  are  sur- 
mounted, the  rough  places  are  made  smooth,  and  the 
last  days  of  the  dwellers  in  the  desert  and  forest  be- 
come like  the  latter  days  of  the  patriarch,  "more 
blessed  than  the  beginning." 

We  may  truly  say  of  Mrs.  Dalton,  that  her  "latter 
days  were  more  blessed  than  the  beginning."  A  happj 
marriage  which  she  entered  into  the  following  spring, 
and  a  long  life  of  prosperity  and  peace  after  her  es- 
cape from  the  last  great  danger,  as  we  have  narrated, 
were  the  fitting  reward  of  the  courage,  diligence,  and 
devotion  displayed  during  the  two  first  summers  and 
winters  which  she  passed  in  the  northern  wilderness. 

The  wide  region  lying  between  the  sources  of  the 
Mississippi  and  the  bends  of  the  Missouri  in  Dakota, 
and  stretching  thence  far  up  to  the  Saskatchewan  in 
the  north,  has  been  appropriately  styled  "  the  happy 
hunting  ground."  The  rendezvous  to  which  the  mighty 
nimrods  of  the  northwest  return  from  the  chase  are 
huge  cabins,  built  to  stand  before  the  howling  blasts, 
and  give  shelter  against  the  arctic  regions  of  the  win- 
ter.   In  these  abodes  dwell  the  wives  and  children  of 


^r 


%■ 


HUNTERS'  TALES. 


303 


many  of  those  rugged  men,  and  create  even  there,  by 
their  devoted  toils  and  gentle  companionship,  at  least 
the  semblance  of  a  home.  Almost  whelmed  in  the  snow, 
and  when  even  the  mercury  freezes  in  the  bulb  of  the 
thermometer,  these  anxious  and  loving  housewives 
feed  the  lamp  and  keep  the  fire  burning  on  the  hearth. 
Dressing  the  skins  of  the  deer,  they  keep  their  hus- 
bands well  shod  and  clothed.  The  long  winter  of 
eight  months  passes  monotonously  away;  the  men, 
accustomed  to  a  life  of  excitement,  chafe  and  grow 
surly  under  their  enforced  imprisonment;  but  the 
women,  by  their  kind  offices  and  sweet  words,  act  as 
a  constant  sedative  upon  these  morose  outbreaks. 
The  hunters,  it  is  said,  grow  softer  in  their  manners  as 
the  winter  wanes.  They  are  unconscious  scholars  in 
the  refining  school  of  woman. 

Among  the  diversions  which  serve  to  while  away 
the  tediousness  of  those  winter  nights  are  included  the 
narration  of  personal  adventures  passed  through  by 
the  different  hunters  in  their  wild  life.  Tales  of  nar- 
row escapes,  of  Indian  fights,  of  desperate  encounters 
with  beasts  of  the  forests;  and  through  the  rough 
texture  of  these  narratives  now  and  then  appears  a 
pathetic  incident  in  which  woman  is  the  prominent 
figure.  Sometimes  it  is  a  hunter's  wife  who  is  the 
heroine,  and  again  the  scene  is  laid  in  the  home  of  the 
settler,  where  woman  faces  some  dreadful  danger  for 
her  loved  ones,  or  endures  extraordinary  suffering 
faithfully  to  the  end.  Such  an  incident  as  the  follow- 
ing was  preserved  in  the  memory  of  a  hunter,  who 
recently  communicated  the  essential  facts  to  the 
writer. 

Minnesota  well  deserves  the  name  of  the  pioneer's 
20 


306 


WOMAN'S  EXPERIENCE  ON  THE  BORDER. 


1 

i 


paradise.  Occupying  as  it  does  that  high  table-land 
out  of  which  gush  into  the  pure  bracing  air,  the  thou- 
sand fountains  of  the  Father  of  waters  and  of  the  ma- 
jestic Red  river ;  studded  with  lakes  that  glisten  like 
molten  silver  in  the  sunshine ;  shadowed  by  prime- 
val forests ;  now  stretching  out  in  prairies  which  lose 
themselves  in  the  horizon ;  now  undulating  with  hills 
and  dales  dotted  with  groves  and  copses,  nature  here, 
like  some  bounteous  and  imperial  mother,  seems  to 
have  prepared  with  lavish  hand  a  royal  park  within 
which  her  roving  sons  and  daughters  may  find  a  per- 
manent abode. 

The  country  through  which  the  Red  river  flows 
from  Otter  Tail  lake  towards  Richville,  is  unsurpassed 
for  rural  beauty.  Trending  northward  it  then  passes 
along  towards  Pembina,  a  border  town  on  our  north- 
ern boundary,  through  a  plain  of  vast  extent,  dotted 
with  groves  of  oak  planted  as  if  by  hand.  Voyaging 
down  this  noble  river  in  midsummer,  between  its 
banks  embowered  with  wild  roses  we  breathe  an  air 
loaded  with  perfume  and  view  a  scene  of  wild  but  en- 
chanting loveliness.  Here  summer  celebrates  her 
brief  but  splendid  reign,  then  lingering  for  a  while  in 
the  lap  of  dreamy,  balmy  autumn,  flies  at  length  into 
southern  exile,  abdicating  her  throne  to  winter,  which 
stalks  from  the  frozen  zone  and  rules  the  region  with 
undisputed  and  rigorous  sway. 

In  the  month  of  March,  1863,  a  party  of  four  hun- 
ters set  out  from  Pembina,  where  they  had  passed 
the  winter,  and  undertook  to  reach  Shyenne,  a  small 
trading  post  on  the  west  bank  of  the  Red  river,  in  the 
territory  of  Dakota.  A  partial  thaw,  followed  by  a 
cold  snap,  had  coated  the  river  in  many  places  with 


' 


A  HUNTER'S  STORY. 


307 


ice,  and  by  the  alternate  aid  of  skates  and  snow-shoes, 
they  reached  on  the  third  evening  after  their  depart- 
ure, Red  Lake  river  in  Minnesota,  some  eighty  miles 
distant  from  Pembina.  Clearing  away  the  snow  in  a 
copse,  they  scooped  a  shallow  trench  in  the  frozen 
soil  with  their  hatchets,  and  kindling  a  fire  so  as  to 
cover  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  excavation,  they 
prepared  their  frugal  repast  of  hunters'  fare.  Then 
removing  the  fire  to  the  foot  of  the  trench  and  pil- 
ing logs  upon  it,  they  lay  down  side  by  side  on  the 
warmed  soil,  and  wrapping  their  blankets  around 
them  slept  soundly  through  the  still  cold  night,  until 
the  sun's  edge  showed  itself  above  the  rim  of  the  vast 
plain  that  stretched  to  the  east.  As  the  hunters  rose 
from  their  earthy  couch  and  stretched  their  cramped 
limbs,  casting  their  eyes  hither  and  thither  over  the 
boundless  expanse,  they  descried  upon  the  edge  of  a 
copse  some  quarter  of  a  mile  to  the  south  a  bright-red 
object,  apparently  a  living  thing,  crouched  upon  the 
snow  as  if  sunning  itself.  Rising  simultaneously  and 
with  awakened  curiosity  they  approached  the  spot. 
Before  they  had  taken  many  steps  the  object  disap- 
peared suddenly.  Fixing  their  eyes  steadily  on  the 
point  of  its  last  appearance,  they  slowly  advanced 
with  cocked  rifles  until  they  reached  a  large  tree  with 
arching  roots,  arodnd  which  were  the  traces  of  small 
sJioeless  feet.  An  orifice  barely  large  enough  to  admit 
a  man  showed  them  beneath  the  tree  a  cave.  One  of 
the  hunters,  peering  through  the  aperture,  spied 
within,  a  girl  of  ten  years  crouched  in  the  farthest 
corner  of  the  recess,  covered  with  a  thick  red  flannel 
cloak,  and  shivering  with  cold  and  terror.  Speaking 
kind  words  to  the  little  stranger  they  succeeded  at 


**'-'-^-: 


308 


WOilAN'S  EXPERIENCE  JN  THE  BORDER. 


1% 


il 


1      ' 


length  in  reassuring  her.  She  came  out  from  her 
hiding-place,  and  the  hunters  with  rugged  kindness 
wrapped  her  feet  »  id  limbs  in  their  coats  and  bore 
her  to  the  fire.  The  first  words  she  uttered  were, 
"mother!  go  for  mother!"  She  had  gone  away  to 
shoot  game  the  night  before,  the  little  girl  said,  and 
had  not  returned. 

Two  of  the  hunters  hastened  back  and  succeeded 
in  tracing  the  mother's  course  a  mile  up  the  river  to 
a  thicket ;  there,  covered  thinly  with  leaves  and  with 
her  rifle  in  her  stiffened  hand,  they  found  the  hapless 
wanderer,  but  alas !  cold  in  death.  Her  set  and  calm 
features,  her  pinched  and  wasted  face,  her  scantily* 
robed  form,  mutely  but  eloquently  told  a  tale  of  fear- 
ful suffering  borne  with  unflinching  fortitude.  "Weak 
and  weary,  the  deadly  cold  had  stolen  upon  her  in  the 
darkness  and  with  its  icy  grip  had  stilled  for  ever  the 
beating  of  her  brave  true  heart.  Excavating  a  grave 
in  the  f-^ow  they  decently  straightened  her  limos,  and 
pil'ng  logs  and  brush  upon  her  remains  to  keep  them 
from  the  beasts  of  prey,  silently  and  sorrowfully  left 
the  scene. 

Who  were  these  lonely  wanderers  in  that  wild  and 
wintry  waste  !  The  presence  of  the  rifle  and  of  the 
large  high  boots  which  she  w^ore,  together  with  other 
circumstances,  were  evidences  vlhich  enabled  the 
shrewd  hunters  to  guess  a  part  of  their  story.  It 
appeared  that  the  family  must  have  consisted  origi- 
nally of  three  persons,  a  man  and  wife,  with  the  child 
now  the  sole  survivor  of  the  party.  Voyaging  down 
the  Red  river  durir  r  the  preceding  summer  and  au- 
tumn ;  lured  onward  by  the  fatal  beauty  of  the  region, 
and  deluded  by  the  ease  with  which  their  wants  could 


mm 


J  MOTHER'S  SACRIFICE. 


309 


be  supplied,  they  had  evidently  neglected  to  provids 
against  the  winter,  which  at  length  burst  upon  them 
all  unprepared  to  encounter  its  rigors. 

The  rest  of  this  heart-rending  story  was  gathered 
from  the  lips  of  their  little  protege.  Her  father, 
mother,  and  herself  had  started  from  Otter  Tail  lake 
in  September,  1862,  after  the  quelling  of  the  Sioux 
outbreak,  and  voyaged  down  the  Red  river  in  a  canoe, 
intending  to  settle  in  the  wild-rice  region  a  few  miles 
southeast  of  the  spot  where  they  then  were.  Their 
canoe  with  most  of  their  household  goods  had  broken 
from  its  moorings  in  November,  one  night  while  they 
were  en(5amped  on  the  shore.  The  father  had  gone 
to  bring  ii  back,  and  being  overtaken  by  a  terrible 
pnow-storm,  had  never  returned.  [His  body  was 
found  the  following  spring.]  The  mother  had  man- 
aged to  procure  barely  sufficient  game  during  the 
winter  to  keep  herself  and  her  child  alive.  The  cave, 
their  only  shelter,  was  strewed  with  the  beaks  and 
feathers  of  birds,  and  with  the  teeth  and  claws  of  small 
animals ;  all  the  other  portions  of  the  game  she  had 
shot  had  been  devoured  in  the  extremity  to  which 
hunger  had  reduced  them.  Her  mother,  the  little  girl 
said,  wa.^  very  weak  the  last  day,  and  could  hardly 
walk.  ^''  I  begged  to  go  with  her  when  she  took  her 
gun  and  went  out  to  shoot  something  for  t;  pper,  but 
she  to^d  me  I  must  stay  at  liome  and  I  -ep  warm." 
Home  !  could  that  wretched  shelter  be  a  home  for  the 
hapless  mother  and  her  child?  Tears  were  wrung 
from  those  rugged  sons  of  the  wilderness,  and  coursed 
down  their  iron  cheeks  when  they  visited  the  spot 
where  parental  tenderness  had  striven  to  shield  the 
object  of  its  affection  from  the  bitter  blast.     The  snow 


.<ir 


310 


ENCOUNTERS  WITH  WILD  BEASTS. 


banked  about  the  roots  oi  the  tree  and  showing  the 
marks  of  her  numbed  fingers,  the  crevices  stuffed  with 
moss,  the  bed  of  dried  leaves  and  the  bedding  which 
she  had  stripped  from  her  own  person  to  cover  her 
child,  were  proofs  and  tokens  of  the  love  which  would 
have  created  comfort  in  the  midst  of  desolation  and 
given  even  that  miserable  nook  in  Avinter's  dreary  do- 
main the  semblance  of  a  home.  In  the  heart  of  that 
frozen  waste,  far  from  human  fellowship,  with  hunger 
gnawing  at  her  vitals  and  the  frost  curdling  the  genial 
current  in  her  veins,  still  burned  brightly  in  that  poor 
lonely  heart  the  pure  and  deathless  llame  of  maternal 
love. 


»♦» 


CHAPTER   XIY. 

ENCOUNTERS  WITH  WILD  BEASTS— COURAGE  AND  DARING. 

THE  inhabitants  of  the  frontier  from  the  e«Tliest 
times  have  had  to  face  the  fiercest  and  most  rav- 
enous wild  beasts  which  prowl  in  the  forests  of  this 
continent ;  and  the  local  histories  of  the  various  sec- 
tions and  single  settlements  on  our  border-land  abound 
in  thrilling  accounts  of  combats  between  those  pests 
of  the  forest  and  individual  men  and  women. 

Wolves,  like  the  poor,  Avere  always  with  the  fron- 
tiersmen. Bears,  both  black  and  brown,  were  familiar 
visitors.  The  cougar,  American  lion,  catamount,  or 
*'pat7iter'*  (panther),  as  it  is  variously  styled,  was  a 
denizen  of  every  forest  f  roin  Maine  to  Georgia,  and  from 


t 


ATTACKED  BY  A  BEAR. 


311 


^3^ 


the  St.  Croix  River  to  the  Columbia.  Wild  cats,  and 
even  deer,  when  brought  to  bay,  proved  themselves 
dangerous  combatants.  Last,  but  not  the  least  terri- 
ble in  the  catalogue,  comes  the  grizzly  bear,  the  mon- 
arch of  the  rocky  waste  that  lies  between  the  head- 
waters of  the  Platte  and  the  Missouri  rivers,  and 
the  sierras  of  the  Pacific  slope. 

The  stories  of  rencontres  and  combats  bet7  een 
pioneer  women  and  these  savage  rangers  of  the  woods, 
are  numerous  and  tbnlling.  Sometimes  they  seem 
almost  improbable,  especially  to  such  as  have  only 
known  Woman  as  f he  appears  to  the  dwellers  of  our 
eastern  cities,  and  in  homes  where  luxury  and  ease 
have  softened  the  sex. 

A  story  like  the  following,  for  example,  as  told  by 
one  of  our  most  veracious  travelers,  may  be  listened 
to  with  at  least  some  degree  of  incredulity  by  gentle- 
men Jind  ladies  of  the  lounge  and  easy  chau-.  A 
woman  living  on  the  Saskatchewan  acr  ipanied  her 
husband  on  a  hunting  expedition  into  the  jrest.  He 
had  been  very  successful,  and  having  killed  one  ]  '  re 
deer  than  they  could  well  carry  home,  he  went  to  the 
house  of  a  neighboring  settler  to  dispose  of  it,  leaving 
his  wife  to  take  care  of  the  rest  until  his  return.  She 
sat  carelessly  upon  the  log  with  his  hunting  knife  in 
her  hand,  when  she  heard  the  breaking  of  branches 
near  her,  and  turning  round,  beheld  a  great  bear  only 
a  few  paces  from  her. 

It  was  too  late  to  retreat,  and,  seeing  that  the  ani- 
mal w.as  very  hungry  and  determined  to  come  to  close 
quarters,  she  rose,  and  placed  her  back  against  a 
small  tree,  holding  her  knife  close  to  her  breast,  and 
in  a  straight  line  with  the  bear. 


. .  / 


S12 


ENCOUNTERS  WITH  WILD  BEASTS. 


The  shaggy  monster  came  on.  She  remained  mo- 
tionless, her  eyes  steadily  fixed  upon  her  enemy\'i,  and, 
as  his  huge  arms  closed  around  her,  she  slowly  drove 
the  knife  into  his  heart.  The  bear  uttered  a  hideous 
cry,  and  sank  dead  at  her  feet.  When  her  husband 
returned,  he  found  the  courageous  woman  taking  the 
skin  from  the  carcass  of  the  formidable  brute.  "  How," 
some  of  our  readers  will  exclaim,  "  can  a  woman  pos- 
sess such  iron  nerves  as  to  dare  and  do  such  0  deed  as 
this  ?  "  And  yet,  evidence  of  masculine  courage  and 
daring,  displayed  by  women  in  this  and  multitudes  of 
other  cases  where  confronted  by  danger  in  this  form, 
is  direct  and  unimpeachable. 

Such  stories,  however  startling  and  extraordinary, 
become  credible  when  we  remember  the  circum- 
stances by  which  woman  is  surrounded  in  pioneer  life, 
and  how  those  circumstances  tend  to  strengthen  the 
nerves  and  increase  the  hardihooa  of  the  softer  sex. 
Hunting  is  there  one  of  the  necessary  avocations,  in 
which  women  oftm  become  practiced,  in  order  to  sup- 
ply the  wants  of  existence.  On  our  northwestern 
frontier,  especially,  female  hunters  have,  from  the 
start,  been  noted  for  their  courage  and  skill. 

One  of  the  famous  huntresses  of  the  northwest, 
while  returning  home  from  the  woods  with  a  wild 
turkey  which  she  had  shot,  unexpectedly  encountered 
a  large  moose  in  her  path,  which  manifested  a  dispo- 
sition to  attack  her.  She  tried  to  avoid  it,  but  the 
animal  came  towards  her  rapidly  and  in  a  furious 
manner.  Her  rifle  was  unloaded,  and  she  was  obliged 
to  take  shelter  behind  a  tree,  shifting  her  position  from 
tree  to  tree  as  the  brute  made  at  her. 

At  length,  as  she  fled,  she  picked  up  a  pole,  and 


Jk 


^ 


-»  w 


1 


THE  HUNTJRESS  AND  THE  ENRAGED  MOOSE. 


313 


quickly  untying  her  moccasin  strings,  she  bound  her 
knife  to  the  end  of  the  pole.  Then,  placing  herself 
in  a  favorable  position,  as  the  moose  came  up,  she 
stabbed  him  several  times  in  the  neck  and  breast.  At 
last  the  animal,  exhausted  with  the  loss  of  blood,  fell. 
She  then  dispatched  it,  and  cut  out  its  tongue  to  carry 
home  as  a  trophy  of  victory.  When  they  went  back 
to  the  spot  for  the  carcass,  they  found  the  snow  tram- 
pled down  in  a  wide  circle,  and  copiously  sprinkled 
with  blood,  which  gave  the  place  the  appearance  of  a 
battle-field.  It  proved  to  be  a  male  of  extraordinary 
size.  , 

The  gray  wolf  species,  two  centuries  ago  and  later, 
was  spread  over  the  Atlantic  States  from  Maine  to 
Georgia,  and  was  in  most  newly-settled  regions  a  fre- 
quent and  obnoxious  visitor  to  cattle  yards  and  sheep- 
folds.  We  are  told  that  the  first  Boston  immigrants 
Were  obliged  to  build  high  and  strong  fences  around 
their  live  stock  to  keep  them  from  the  depredations  of 
these  marauders. 

Less  bold  than  his  European  kindred,  the  gray  wolf 
of  North  America  is  still  an  extremely  powerful  and 
dangerous  animal,  as  may  be  proved  by  recalling  the 
frequent  encounters  of  the  early  settlers — both  men 
and  women — with  these  prowling  pests.  When 
pinched  with  hunger  or  driven  to  extremities,  they 
will  attack  men  or  women  and  fight  desperately,  either 
to  satiate  their  appetites  or  to  save  their  skins  from  an 
assailant.  A  great  number  of  stories  and  incidents 
concerning  collisions  bctwc(Mi  women  and  these  savage 
brutes  are  scattered  through  the  local  histories  of  our 
early  times,  and  illustrate  the  nerve  and  daring  which, 


■I — 


ll 


814 


ENCOUNTERS  WITH  WILD  BEASTS. 


as  we  have  shown,  were  habitual  to  the  women  in  the 
border  settlements. 

About  the  middle  of  the  last  centiu-y,  a  household 
in  the  hill  country  of  Georgia  was  greatly  vexed  by 
the  frequent  incursions  of  a  large  animal  cf  this  species 
which  prowled  about  the  cow-yard,  and  carried  off 
calves  and  sheep,  sometimes  even  venturing  up  to 
the  door  of  the  cabin.  The  family  consisted  of  a  man 
and  his  wife  and  three  daughters,  all  grown  up.  Each 
one  of  the  five  had  shot  ineffectually  at  the  brute, 
which  seemed  to  bear  a  charmed  life.  A  strong  steel 
trap  was  finally  set  near  the  calf-pen,  in  a  stout 
enclosure,  and  in  a  few  days  the  trappers  were 
delighted  to  hear  a  commotion  in  that  quarter  which 
indicated  the  success  of  their  stratagem.  His  wolf- 
ship,  sure  enough,  had  been  caught  by  one  of  his  hind 
legs,  and  was  found  to  be  furiously  gnawing  at  the 
trap  and  the  chain  which  held  him.  The  womenkind, 
rejoicing  in  the  capture  of  their  old  enemy,  all  entered 
the  enclosure  and  stood  watching  the  struggles  of  the 
fierce  beast,  while  the  father  was  loading  his  gun  to 
dispatch  it. 

In  one  of  his  leaps,  the  staple  that  held  the  chain 
gave  way,  and  the  wolf  would  have  bounded  over  the 
fence,  and  made  his  escape  to  the  woods,  but  for  the 
ready  courage  of  the  eldest  daughter  of  the  family,  a 
large,  powerful  woman  of  twenty-five.  Seizing  the 
chain,  she  held  it  firmly  in  both  her  hands;  the  wolf 
snapped  at  her  arms,  and  at  last,  in  his  desperation, 
sprang  at  her  throat  with  such  force  that  he  overthrew 
her,  but  still  she  did  not  relax  her  grip  of  the  chain, 
though  the  animal,  in  his  struggles,  dragged  her  on 
the  ground  across  the  enclosure.     Her  father,  at  this 


THRILLING  STORY  OF  A  KENTUCKY  GIRL. 


315 


critical  moment,  returned  with  his  loaded  gun  and  dis- 
patched the  brute.  The  young  woman,  barring  a  few 
bruiKses  and  scratches,  was  entirely  uninjured. 

The  speed  and  endurance  of  these  animals,  when  in 
pursuit  of  their  prey, 

"  With  their  long  gallop,  -which  can  tiro 
The  hound's  deep  hate,  the  hunter's  lire," 

makes  them  very  dangerous  assailants,  when  ravenous 
with  hunger.  We  recall,  in  this  connection,  the  thrill- 
ing story  of  a  brave  Kentucky  girl,  who,  with  her  sis- 
ters, was  pursued  by  a  pack  of  black  wolves. 

The  pluck  and  ready  wit  for  which  the  Kentucky 
girls  have  been  so  celebrated  is  well  illustrated  by  this 
adventure,  which,  after  threatening  consequences  of 
the  most  tragical  nature,  had  finally  a  comical  denoue- 
ment. 

In  the  year  1798,  a  family  of  Virginia  emigrants 
settled  in  central  Kentucky  in  the  midst  of  a  dense 
forest,  where,  by  the  aid  of  three  negro  men  whom 
they  had  brought  with  them,  a  spacious  cabin  was 
soon  erected  and  a  large  clearing  made.  The  family 
consisted  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Carter,  three  daua:hters,  well 
grown,  buxom  girls,  full  of  life  and  fun,  and  a  son, 
who,  tliough  only  fourteen  years  of  age,  was  a  fine 
rider  and  versed  in  forest-craft. 

The  country  where  they  lived  was  rich  and  beauti- 
ful. One  could  ride  on  horseback  for  miles  through 
groves  of  huge  forest  trees,  beneath  which  the  turf 
lay  firm  and  green.  Through  this  open  wood  a  wagon 
could  be  driven  without  difficulty ;  but  locomotion  in 
those  days  and  regions  was  largely  on  horseback. 
There  were  no  roads,  except  between  the  larger  settle- 


316 


ENCOUNTERS  WITH  WILD  BEASTS. 


ments ;  unless  those  passage-ways  through  the  woods 
could  be  called  roads.  These  were  made  by  cutting 
down  a  tree  or  clearing  away  the  undergrowth  here 
and  there,  and  "  blazing  "  the  trees  along  the  passage 
by  chopping  off  a  portion  of  the  bark  as  high  as  a  man 
could  reach  with  an  axe. 

At  that  period  Kentucky  was  a  famous  hunting- 
ground  !  All  kinds  of  game  abounded  in  those  mag- 
nificent forests  and  beneath  that  genial  clime.  Wild 
turkeys  roosted  in  immense  flocks  in  the  chestnut, 
beach,  and  oak  trees ;  pigeons  by  the  million  darkened 
the  air ;  deer  could  be  shot  by  any  hunter  by  stopping 
a  few  moments  in  the  forest  where  they  came  to  feed. 

The  fiercer  and  more  ravenous  beasts  abounded  ih 
proportion.  Bears,  catamounts,  and  wolves  swarmed 
in  the  denser  parts  of  the  forests,  and  in  the  winter 
the  two  last  named  beasts  were  a  great  annoyance  to 
the  settlers  by  the  boldness  with  which  they  invaded 
the  cattle  and  poultry -yards  and  pig-pens. 

The  black  wolf  of  the  Western  country  was  and  is 
a  very  destructive  and  fierce  animal,  hunting  in  large 
packs,  which,  after  using  every  stratagem  to  circum- 
vent their  prey,  attacked  it  with  great  ferocity. 

Like  the  Indian,  they  always  endeavored  to  surprise 
their  victims  and  strike  the  mortal  blow  without  expos- 
ing themselves  to  danger.  They  seldom  attack  a  man 
except  when  asleep  or  wounded,  or  otherwise  taken 
at  a  disadvantage. 

As  the  Carter  homestead  was  ten  miles  from  any 
settlement,  it  was  fairly  haunted  by  these  wild  beasts, 
which  considered  the  cattle,  calves,  colts,  sheep,  and 
pigs  of  the  new  comers  their  legitimate  prey. 

Young  Carter  and  his  sisters  having  emigrated  from 


' 


J 


TRAPPING  WILD  BEASTS. 


317 


the  most  populous  part  of  Virginia  where  social  enter- 
tainments were  frequent,  found  the  time  during  the 
winter  months  hang  heavy  on  their  hands,  and  as  the 
young  ladies'  favorite  colts  and  pet  lambs  had  often 
suffered  from  incursions  of  the  wolves  and  panthers, 
they  amused  themselves  by  setting  traps  for  them  and 
occasionally  giving  them  a  dose  of  cold  lead,  for  they 
were  all  good  shots  with  the  rifle, — the  girls  as  well  as 
their  brother. 

Two  or  three  years  passed  in  the  forest  taught  them 
to  despise  the  wolves  and  panthers  as  cowardly  brutes, 
and  the  girls  were  not  afraid  to  pass  through  the  forest 
at  any  time  of  the  day  or  night.  Often  just  at  dusk, 
when  returning  from  a  picnic  or  walk,  they  would  see 
half  a  dozen  or  more  wolves  prowling  in  the  woods ; 
the  girls  would  run  towards  them  screaming  and  shak- 
ing their  mantles,  and  the  whole  pack  would  scurry 
away  through  the  undergrowth. 

This  cowardly  conduct  of  the  wolves  taught  their 
fair  pursuers  to  underestimate  the  ferocious  nature  of 
the  beasts,  as  we  shall  hereafter  see. 

The  winter  of  1801  was  a  severe  one.  Heavy 
snows  fell,  and  the  passage  through  the  woods  was 
difficult,  either  by  reason  of  the  snows  or  from  the 
thaws  which  succeeded  them.  Never  before  had  the 
wolves  been  so  bold  and  ferocious.  It  happened  that 
in  the  depth  of  this  winter  a  merry-making  was 
announced  to  take  place  in  the  nearest  settlement, 
ten  miles  distant. 

The  Carter  girls  were  of  course  among  the  invited 
guests,  for  their  beauty  and  spirit  were  famed  through 
the  whole  region.  Their  parents  having  perfect  con- 
fidence in  the  ability  of  the  girls  to  take  care  of 


f 


318 


ENCOUNTERS  WITH  WILD  BEASTS. 


themselves,  and  also  considering  that. their  brother 
"was  to  accompany  them  on  horseback,  Mr.  Carter,  the 
elder,  ordered  their  house-servant,  an  old  negro  named 
Hannibal,  to  tackle  up  a  pair  of  stout  roadsters  to 
a  two-seated  wagon  and  drive  his  daughters  to  the 
merry-making. 

Hannibal  was  a  fiddler  of  renown  and  that  of  course 
formed  a  double  reason  why  he  should  go  to  the  ball. 

The  snow  was  not  so  deep  as  to  delay  the  party 
materially.  They  were  determined  under  any  circum- 
stances to  reach  the  scene  of  Christmas  festivities, 
where  the  young  ladies,  as  well  as  their  partners, 
anticipated  a  "good  time"  in  the  dance,  and  per. 
chance  "j^osnlilities  "  which  might  be  protracted  until 
a  late  hour  upon  the  following  morning,  when  the 
guests  would  disperse  upon  the  understanding  that 
they  were  to  meet  and  continue  their  amusements 
the  same  evening. 

In  spite  of  the  urgent  invitations  of  their  friends 
that  the  young  ladies  should  pass  the  night  at  the 
settlement,  they  set  out  on  their  way  home,  to  which 
they  were  lighted  by  a  full  moon,  whose  light  was  re- 
flected from  the  snow  and  filled  the  air  with  radiance. 

The  girls  were  assisted  into  the  old  two-seated 
wagon,  Hannibal,  rolling  his  eyes  and  showing  his 
teeth,  clambered  on  the  front  seat,  placing  his  fiddle 
'  in  its  case  between  his  knees,  and  grasping  the  reins 
shouted  to  the  horses,  which  started  off  at  a  rattling 
pace,  young  Carter  and  an  escort  of  admiring  cavaliers 
riding  behind  as  a  guard  of  honor. 

After  accompanying  them  on  their  way  for  three 
miles,  the  escort  took  leave  of  them  amid  much  doffing 
of  hats  and  waving  of  handkerchiefs. 


««; 


CBASED  BY  WOLVES. 


319 


" 


The  wagon  was  passing  through  the  dense  forest 
which  it  had  traversed  the  night  before,  when  a  deep, 
mournful  howl  was  borne  to  the  ears  of  the  party. 
Another  followed,  and  then  a  succession  of  similar 
sounds,  till  the  forest  resounded  with  the  hayings  as 
if  of  a  legion  of  wolves. 

Upon  the  departure  of  the  escort,  young  Carter, 
with  youthful  impetuosity  and  thoughtlessness,  had 
put  spurs  to  his  horse,  a  beast  of  blood  and  mettle, 
and  was  now  far  in  advance  of  the  wagon,  which  was 
moving  slowly  through  the  forest,  barely  lighted  by 
the  moon,  which  cast  its  beams  through  the  interlacing 
boughs. 

The  girls  were  not  in  the  least  scared  by  the  wolfish 
concert.  Not  so  Hannibal,  who  rolled  his  eyes  up  and 
down  the  woods,  whipped  up  the  horses,  and  uttered 
sundry  ejaculations  in  the  negro  dialect  expressive  of 
his  alarm  and  apprehension  on  the  young  ladies' 
account. 

An  open  space  in  the  forest  soon  showed  to  the 
party  a  half  dozen  dark,  gaunt  objects  squatted  on  their 
haunches,  whining  and  sniffing,  directly  in  the  track 
of  the  wagon.  They  rose  and  ranged  themselves  by 
the  side  of  the  road,  the  vehicle  passing  so  near  that 
Hannibal  was  able  to  give  them  with  his  whip  two  or 
three  cuts  which  sent  them  snarling  to  the  rear. 

The  howling  ceased,  and  for  a  few  moments  the 
girls  thought  their  disagreeable  visitors  had  bid  them 
good  night.  Looking  back,  however,  one  of  the  girls 
saw  a  dozen  or  more  loping  stealthily  behind  them. 
They  soon  reached  the  wagon,  and  one  of  the  boldest 
of  the  pack  leaped  up  behind  and  tore  away  a  piece 
of  the  shawl  in  which  one  of  the  girls  was  wrapped, 


.i 


320 


ENCOUNTERS  WITH  WILD  BEASTS. 


but  a  smart  blow  on  the  snout  from  the  hand  of  the 
brave  girl  sent  him  yelping  back  to  his  fellows. 

The  horses  becoming  frightened,  tore,  snorting, 
through  the  woods,  lashed  by  the  old  negro,  half  be- 
side himself  with  terror :  but  the  wolves  only  loped 
the  faster  and  grew  the  bolder  in  proportion  to  the 
speed  of  the  wagon.  Sometimes  they  would  throw 
their  forepaws  as  high  as  the  hind  seat,  and  snap  at 
the  throats  of  the  girls,  who  thereupon  gave  their 
wolfships  severe  buffets  with  their  fists  and  thus  drove 
them  back. 

The  wolves  were  increasing  in  number  and  ferocity 
every  moment,  ant!  but  for  a  happy  thought  of  the 
oldest  Miss  Carter,  the  whole  party  would  have  un-? 
doubtedly  fallen  a  prey  to  the  ferocious  animals. 

An  old  deserted  cabin  stood  in  the  forest  close  to 
the  track  which  they  were  following.  Seizing  the 
reins  from  the  hands  of  the  affrighted  darkey,  she 
guided  the  wagon  up  to  the  door  of  the  cabin,  and  the 
whole  party  dismounting  rushed  into  the  door.  Here 
Miss  Carter  stood  with  a  stout  stick,  while  the  negro 
helped  her  sisters  up  into  a  loft  by  means  of  a 
ladder. 

The  pack  again  squatted  on  their  haunches  and 
whined  wistfully,  but  were  kept  at  bay  by  the  daring 
maiden.  After  her  sisters  had  been  safely  housed  in 
the  loft,  with  Hannibal  who  had  in  his  fright  quite  for- 
gotten her,  she  immediately  joined  them  and  had 
scarcely  ascended  the  ladder  when  more  than  twenty 
of  the  wolves  rushed  pell-mell  into  the  cabin. 

The  rest  of  the  pack  made  an  attack  on  the  horses, 
which  by  their  kicking  and  plunging  broke  loose  from 


THE  WOLVES  TRAPPED. 


321 


the  harness,  and  dashed  homewards  through  the  woods 
followed  by  the  yelling  pack. 

While  this  was  going  on,  the  young  women  recov- 
ered their  equanimity,  and  hearing  the  horses  break 
away  from  their  assailants,  directed  the  negro  to  close 
the  door;  which  after  some  difficulty  he  succeeded  in 
doing.     Twenty  wolves  were  thus  snugly  trapped. 

One  of  the  girls  soon  proposed  that  the  old  fiddler 
.sliould  play  a  few  tunes  to  the  animals,  which  were 
now  whining  in  their  cage. 

The  darkey  accordingly  took  his  violin,  which  he 
had  clung  to  through  all  their  mad  drive,  and  struck 
up  "  Money  Musk,"  which  he  played  as  correctly  and 
in  as  good  time  as  was  possible  under  the  circumstance. 
Soon  collecting  his  nerve  and  coolness  as  he  went  on, 
he  scraped  out  his  whole  repertoire  of  dancing  tunes, 
"  ^t,  Patrick's  day  in  the  morning"  "  The  Irish  Wash- 
erwoman^'''' '-'•  Pop  goes  the  Weasel"  winding  up  with  a 
'■'-  BreaMoion  and  Fishers"  Hornpipe." 

The  effect  of  the  music,  while  it  cheered  and  amused 
the  girls  in  their  strange  situation,  seemed  to  have  a 
directly  contrary  effect  on  the  wolves,  who  crouched, 
yelped,  and  trembled  until  they  seemed  utterly  power- 
less and  harmless.  What  threatened  to  be  a  tragedy 
was  in  this  way  turned  into  something  that  resembled 
a  comedy. 

By  daylight  Mr.  Carter,  with  his  son  and  two  ne- 
groes, arrived  on  the  scene,  armed  to  the  teeth  with 
guns  and  axes,  and  mado^short  work  with  the  brutes^ 
climbing  on  the  roof  of  the  cabin  and  descending  into 
the  loft  from  which  place  they  shot  them  in  detail. 
The  bounty  which  at  that  time  was  paid  for  wolves' 
21 


w 


322 


ENCOUNTERS  WITH  WILD  BEASTS. 


*!    W 


heads  was  awarded  to  Miss  Carter  by  whose  ingenuity 
the  brutes  were  trapped. 

The  wild  cat  of  this  continent  is  said  to  be  the 
lineal  descendant  of  "  the  harmless,  necessary  cat," 
which  the  early  emigrants  brought  over  with  them 
from  Europe,  among  their  other  four-footed  friends  and 
companions.  Certain  depraved  and  perverse  repre- 
sentatives of  this  domestic  creature  took  to  the  woods, 
and,  becoming  outlaws  from  society,  reverted  to  their 
original  savage  state.  Their  offspring  waxed  in  size 
and  fierceness  beyond  their  progenitors.  They  became 
at  last  proverbial  for  their  fighting  qualities,  ana  to 
be  able  to  "  whip  one's  -weight  in  wild  cats,"  is  a  torso 
expression  signifying  strength. 

The  fecundity  of  this  animal,  as  well  as  its  predatory 
skill,  makos  it  an  extremely  frequent  and  annoying 
poacher  on  the  poultry-yards  of  the  backwoods  fsettlers, 
especially  in  the  hill  districtsof  the  Southern  States, 
where  the  climate  and  the  abundance  of  game  appear 
to  have  developed  them  to  an  uncommon  size  and 
fierceness. 

xlieir  .strength  and  ferocity  was  fully  tested  by  a 
settler's  wife,  in  the  upper  part  of  Alabama,  come  fifty 
years  ago,  as  will  appear  from  the  following  account : 

Mrs.  Julia  Page,  a  widow,  with  three  small  children, 
occupied  a  house  in  a.  broken  and  well-wooded  country, 
some  miles  west  of  the  present  town  of  Huntsville, 
where  the  only  ,<;crious  annoyance  nd  drawback 
was  the  immense  number  of  these  animals  which 
p'  owled  through  the  woods  and  decimated  the  poultry. 
Stumpy  tailed,  green  eyed,  they  strolled  through  the 
clearing  and  sunned  themselves  on  the  limbs  of  neigh- 
boring trees,  blinking  calmly  at  the  clucking  hens 


FIGUT  WITH  WILD  CATS. 


323 


which  they  marked  for  their  prey,  and  even  venturing 
to  throw  suspicious  glances  at  the  infant  sleeping  in 
its  cradle.  Sociable  in  their  disposition,  they  appeared 
to  even  cliim  a  kind  of  proprietary  interest  in  the 
premises  and  in  the  appurtenances  thereof. 

Shooting  a  dozen  and  trapping  as  many  more,  made 
little  appreciable  difference  in  the  numbers  of  the 
feline  colony.  The  dame  at  last  constructed  with 
much  labor  a  close  shed,  within  which  her  poultry 
were  nightly  housed.  This  worked  well  for  a  season. 
But  one  evening  a  commotion  in  the  hennery  informed 
her  that  the  depredators  were  again  at  work.  Hastily 
seizing  an  axe  in  one  hand  and  carrying  a  lighted 
pitch  pine  knot  in  the  other,  she  hurried  to  the  scene 
of  action,  and  found  Grimalkin  feasting  sumptuously 
on  her  plumpest  pullet.  The  banqueters  were  evi- 
dently a  mother  and  her  well-grown  son,  whom  she 
was  instructing  in  the  predatory  art  and  practice. 

The  younger  animal  immediately  clambered  to  tho 
hole  where  it  had  made  its  entrance,  and  ,as  about  to 
make  a  successful  exit,  when  the  matron,  sticking  the 
lighted  knot  in  the  ground,  struck  the  animal  with  the 
axe,  breaking  its  back  and  bringing  it  to  the  ground. 
Without  an  instant's  warning,  the  mother  cat  sprang 
upon  Mis.  Page,  and  fastening  its  powerful  claws  in 
her  breast;  tore  savagely  at  her  neck  with  its  teeth. 

The  matron,  shrieking  with  terro  ^  strove  with  all 
her  might  to  loosen  the  animal's  hold,  but  in  vain. 
Tlie  maternal  instinct  had  a\vakened  all  its  fierceness, 
and  a^5  the  blood  connnenced  to  flow  in  streams  from 
the  tioep  scratches  and  bites  inflicted  by  its  teeth  and 
claws,  its  ferocious  appetency  redoubled.  It  tore  and 
bit  as  if  nothing  would  appease  it  but  the  luckless 


324  ENCOUNTERS  WITH  WILD  BEASTS. 

■I 

victim's  death.  Mrs.  Page  would  doubtless  have  fallen 
a  prey  to  its  savage  rage,  but  for  a  happy  thought 
which  flashed  across  her  mind  in  her  desperate  straits. 

Snatching  the  pine  knot  from  the  earth,  she  applied 
it  to  the  hindquarters  of  the  wild  cat.  The  flame 
instantly  singed  off  the  thick  fur  and  scorched  its 
flesh.  With  a  savage  screech,  it  relaxed  its  hold  and 
fell  to  the  ground,  where  she  succeeded  at  last  in 
dispatching  the  creature.  It  proved  to  be  one  of  the 
largest  of  its  species,  measuring  nearly  three  feet  from 
its  nose  to  the  W^  of  its  tail,  and  weighing  over  thirty 
pounds. 

For  many  years  this  colony  of  pioneer  wild  cats 
continued  to  "make  things  hot"  for  the  settlers  in 
that  region,  but  most  of  them  were  finally  extermi- 
nated, and  the  remnant  emigrated  to  some  more 
secluded  region. 

The  character  of  the  common  black  bear  is  a  studj 
for  the  naturalist,  and  the  hunter.  He  is  fierce  oi 
good-natured,  sullen  or  playful,  lazy  or  energetic,  bold 
or  cowardly,  "all  by  turns  and  nothing  long."  He  is 
the  clown  of  the  menagerie,  the  laughing  stock  rather 
than  the  dread  of  the  hunter,  and  the  abhorrence  of 
border  house-wives,  owing  to  his  intrusive  manners, 
his  fondness  for  overturning  beehives,  and  his  playful 
familiarity  with  the  contents  of  their  larders  in  the 
winter  season. 

Incidents  are  related  where  in  consequence  of  these 
contrarieties  of  boar-nature,  danger  and  humor  are 
singularly  blended. 

While  the  daughters  of  one  of  the  early  settlers  of 
Wisconsin  was  Avandering  in  "  r.iaiden  meditation," 
through  the  forest  by  which  her  father's  home  was 


mmmm 


TREED  BY  A  BEAR. 


825 


I 


surrounded,  she  was  i:?uddenly  startled  from  her  reverie 
by  a  hoarse,  deep,  cavernous  growl,  and  as  she  lifted 
her  eyes,  tliey  were  opened  wide  with  dismay  and  ter- 
ror. Not  twenty  paces  from  her,  rising  on  his  hu^o 
iron  clawed  hind  feet,  was  a  wide-mouthed,  vicious 
looking  black  bear,  of  unusual  size,  who  had  evidently 
been  already  "worked  up,"  and  was  "spoiling  for  a 
fight."  That  the  bear  meant  mischief  was  plain,  but 
the  girl  was  a  pioneer's  daughter,  and  her  fright  pro- 
duced no  symptoms  of  anything  like  fainting. 

Bears  could  climb,  she  knew  that  very  well ;  but 
then  if  she  got  out  of  his  way  quickly  enough  he 
might  not  take  the  trouble  to  follow  her. 

It  was  the  only  chance,  an.!  she  sprang  for  the  near- 
est tree.  It  was  of  medium  size,  with  a  rough  bark 
and  easy  to  climb.  All  the  better  for  her,  if  none  the 
Worse  for  the  bear,  and  in  an  instant  she  was  perched 
among  the  lower  branches.  For  two  or  three  minutes 
the  shaggy  monster  seemed  puzzled  and  as  if  in  doubt 
what  course  he  had  best  pursue  ;  then  he  came  slowly 
tip  and  began  smelling  and  nuzzling  round  the  roots 
of  the  tree  as  if  to  obtain  the  necessary  information 
in  order  to  enable  him  to  decide  this  important 
question. 

The  young  woman  in  the  tree  Avas  no  coward,  but 
little  as  was  the  hope  of  being  heard  in  that  forest  soli- 
tude she  let  her  fears  have  their  own  way  and  screamed 
loudly  for  help.  As  if  aroused  and  provoked  by  the 
sound  of  her  voice,  bruin  began  to  try  the  bark  with 
his  foreclaws  while  his  fierce  little  eyes  looked  up  car- 
nivorously  into  the  face  of  the  maiden,  and  hh  little 
tongue  came  twisting  spirally  from  his  half  opened 
jaws  as  if  he  were  gloating  over  a  choice  tiibit. 


,  i 


326 


ENCOUNTERS  WITH  WILD  BEASTS. 


*^ 


A  neighboring  settler,  attracted  by  the  cries  of  dis- 
tress, soon  reached  the  scene  of  action.  Though  com- 
pletely unarmed  he  did  not  hesitate  to  come  to  close 
quarters  with  bruin,  and  seizing  a  long  heavy  stick  he 
commenced  to  vigorously  belabor  the  hind  quarters  of 
the  brute,  who,  however,  only  responded  to  these  at- 
tentions by  turning  his  head  and  winking  viciously  at 
his  assailant,  still  pursuing  his  upward  gymnastics  in 
the  direction  of  the  girl,  who  on  her  part  was  clam- 
bering towards  the  upper  branches  of  the  tree. 

The  young  man  redoubled  his  blows  and  for  a  mo-^ 
ment  bruin  seemed  disposed  to  turn  and  settle  matters 
with  the  party  in  his  rear,  but  finally  to  the  dismay  of 
both  the  maiden  and  her  champion,  and  evidently 
deeming  his  readiest  escape  from  attack  would  be  to 
continue  his  ascent,  he  resumed  his  acrobatic  perform- 
ance and  was  about  to  place  his  forefeet  on  the  loAver 
limbs,  when  his  foe  dropping  his  futile  weapon,  seized 
the  stumpy  tail  of  the  boast  with  his  strong  hands,  and 
bracing  his  feet  against  the  trunk  of  the  tree  pulled 
with  all  his  might.  The  girl  seeing  the  turn  that  mat- 
ters had  taken,  immediately  broke  off  a  large  limb  and 
stoutly  hammered  the  bear's  snout.  This  simultane- 
ous attack  in  front  and  rear  was  too  much  for  bruin  : 
with  an  amusing  air  of  bewilderment  he  descended  in 
a  slow  and  dignified  rianner  and  galloped  off  into  the 
forest. 

There  are  but  few  instances  on  record  where  female 
courage  has  been  put  to  the  severe  test  of  a  hand  to 
hand  coml)at  Avitli  grizzly  bears.  The  most  remark- 
able conflict  of  this  description  is  that  which  we  will 
endeavor  to  detail  in  the  following  narrative,  which 
brings  out  in  bold  relief  the  trait;^  of  courage,  liardi- 


:'l 


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iJ«iipp|,l!JipM'WJ 


mmmmimmmmmmmri 


.i 


A  TRUE  WOMAN  OF  THE  BORDER. 


327 


hood,  and  devotion,  all  displayed  by  woman  in  most 
trying  and  critical  situations,  wherein  she  showed  her- 
self the  peer  of  the  stoutest  and  most  skillful  of  that 
hardy  breed  of  men — the  hunters  of  the  far  west. 

In  the  summer  of  1859  a  party  of  men  and  women 
set  out  from  Omaha,  on  an  exploring  tour  of  the 
Platte  valley,  for  the  purpose  of  fixing  upon  some  fa- 
vorable location  for  a  settlement,  which  was  to  be  the 
head-quarters  of  an  extensive  cattle-farm.  The  leader 
in  the  expedition  was  Col.  Ansley,  a  wealthy  English- 
man. He  was  accompanied  by  Joseph  Dagget,  his 
agent,  whose  business  had  carried  him  several  times 
across  the  Rocky  Mountains  to  California ;  Mrs.  Dag- 
get and  a  daughter  of  sixteen,  both  of  whom  had 
crossed  the  plains  before  with  Mr.  D. — two  half-breeds 
also  accompanied  the  party  as  guides,  hunters,  mule- 
teers, and  men  of  all  work. 

As  Mrs.  Dagget  is  the  heroine  of  our  story,  she  de- 
serves a  description  in  detail.  Her  early  life  had  been 
spent  in  the  wilds  of  Northern  New  York,  where  she 
became  versed  in  fishing,  hunting,  and  wood-craft. 
She  grew  up  in  that  almost  unbroken  wilderness  to 
more  than  woman's  ordinary  stature,  and  with  a  mas- 
culine firnuiess  of  nerve  and  fiber.  We  need  hardly 
add  that  she  was  an  admirable  equestrienne. 

At  the  age  of  seventeen  she  was  married  to  Joseph 
Dagget,  who  possessed  those  qualities  which  she  was 
naturally  most  inclined 'to  admire  in  a  man. 

The  seventeen  years  that  followed  her  marriage  she 
spent  with  her  husband  in  the  wilds  of  the  North  and 
West,  where  she  obtained  all  the  further  experience 
necessary  to  complete  her  education  as  a  practical 
Woman  of  the  Border.     It  is  unnecessary  to  state 


328 


ENCOUNTERS  WITH  WILD  BEASTS. 


that  such  a  woman  as  Mrs.  Dagget  was  an  exceed- 
ingly useful  member  of  frontier  society.  Several 
times  she  and  her  husband  had  been  the  leading  spir- 
its in  starting  new  settlements  far  in  advance  of  the 
main  stream  of  immigration:  after  the  courage  and 
experience  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  D.  had  helped  on  the  in- 
fant settlement  for  a  season,  the  restless  spirit  of  ad- 
venture would  seize  them,  and  selling  out,  they  would 
push  on  further  west. 

Miss  Jane  Dagget  was  a  girl  after  her  father's  and 
mother's  own  heart,  and  was  their  constant  compan- 
ion in  their  expeditions  and  journeys  over  prairie  and 
mountain. 

The  party  started  in  June  from  Omaha,  and  jour- 
neyed along  the  north  bank  of  the  Platte  river  as  far 
as  the  North  Fork  of  that  stream.  They  were  well- 
mounted  on  blooded  horses,  furnished  by  Col.  Ansley, 
and  were  followed  by  four  pack-mules  with  such 
baggage  as  the  party  needed,  under  the  care  of  the 
half-breed  guides. 

Two  weeks  sufficed  to  locate  the  ranch,  after  which 
they  pursued  their  way  along  the  North  Platte,  as  far 
as  Fort  Laramie,  intending  from  that  po-^t  to  advance 
northward  to  strike  the  North  Fork  of  r  .e  Cheyenne, 
and  following  that  stream  to  the  Missouri  river,  there 
take  the  steamboat  back  to  Omaha.  This  diversion 
in  their  proposed  route  was  made  at  the  suggestion  of 
Col.  Ansley,  who  was  a  keen  and  daring  sportsman, 
and  wished  to  add  a  fight  with  grizzlies  to  his  reper- 
toire of  hunting  adventures. 

The  first  day's  journey,  after  leaving  Fort  Laramie, 
was  barren  of  incident.  Pursuing  their  route  due- 
north,  over  a  rolling  and  well-grassed  country^  inter- 


LASSOING  A  GRIZZLY. 


329 


spersed  with  sandy  stretches,  they  reached,  on  the 
evening  of  the  second  day,  some  low  hills,  covered  with 
thickets  and  small  trees,  between  which  ran  valleys 
thickly  carpeted  with  grass.  Here  they  were  prepar- 
ing their  camp,  when  one  of  the  half-breeds  cried  out, 
"Voila  Greezly!" 

The  whole  party  turned  their  eyes,  and  saw,  sure 
enough,  an  enormous  mouse-colored  grizzly  sitting  on 
his  haunches  beside  a  tree,  regarding  them  with 
strong  marks  of  curiosity. 

The  half-breeds  straightway  began  to  prepare  for 
action,  after  the  California  fashion,  that  is  to  say,  they 
coiled  their  "lariats,"  .ind  rode  slowly  up  to  the  brute, 
who  stood  his  ground,  only  edging  up  until  his  flank 
nearly  rested  against  the  tree,  a  stout  sapling  some 
four  inches  in  diameter. 

The  rest  of  the  party  stood  ready  with  their  rifles, 
not  excepting  even  the  ladies.  The  horses  snorted 
and  trembled,  while  their  hearts  beat  so  loudly  that 
the  riders  could  plainly  hear  them. 

Meanwhile  Francois,  one  of  the  half-breeds,  had  let 
slip  his  lasso,  which  fell  squarely  over  the  head  of  the 
grizzly  ;  then  drawing  it  "  taut,"  he  kept  it  so  w'hile 
he  slowly  walked  his  horse  around  the  tree,  binding 
the  grizzly  firmly  to  it. 

The  whole  party  now  advanced  with  rifles  poised, 
ready  to  give  the  coup  de  grace  to  his  bearsliip  ;  Avhen, 
with  a  thundering  growl,  another  "  grizzly "  came 
shambling  swiftly  out  from  the  bushes,  and  made  di- 
rectly for  Francjois.  Before  the  party  recovered  from 
their  surprise  at  this  new  appearance  on  the  scene, 
the  brute  reared  up  and  seized  Francois  by  the  leg, 
which  he  crunched  and  shattered. 


330 


ENCOUNTERS  WITH  WILD  BEASTS. 


Only  one  of  the  party  dared  to  fire,  for  fear  of 
wounding  the  guide ;  that  one  was  Mrs.  Dagget,  who, 
poising  her  carbine,  would  have  sent  a  ball  through 
the  monster's  heart  but  for  a  sudden  start  of  her  high- 
mettled  horse.  As  it  was,  her  shot  only  wounded  the 
beast,  which  immediately  left  Francois  and  dashed  at 
our  heroine,  who  drew  a  navy-revolver  from  her 
holsters,  gave  the  infuriated  animal  two  more  shots, 
and  then  wheeled  her  horse  and  galloped  away,  mak- 
ing a  circuit  as  she  rode,  so  as  to  reach  the  other  side 
of  the  tree  from  which  the  first  grizzly  had  now  dis- 
engaged himself,  and  attacking  Michael,  the  remain- 
ing guide,  had  broken  his  horse's  leg  with  ■  1)low  of 
his  paw ;  the  horse  fell,  and  Michael's  arm  was  frac- 
tured, and  the  bear  then  dashing  at  Col.  Ansley  and 
Mr.  Dagget,  put  them  to  flight,  together  with  Miss 
Dagget.  The  Colonel's  horse,  stumbling,  threw  his 
rider,  and  leaving  him  with  a  dislocated  shoulder,  gal- 
loped away  across  the  plain. 

Mr.  Dagget  and  his  daughter  quickly  dismounted, 
and  led  the  Colonel,  groaning,  to  a  thicket,  where  they 
placed  him  in  concealment,  and  then  returned  to  the 
combat.  Mrs.  Dagget  meanwhile,  having  diverted 
both  the  grizzlies  by  repeated  shots  from  her  revolver, 
also  drew  them  after  her,  away  from  the  unfortunate 
half-breeds,  who  lay  with  shattered  limbs  on  the 
ground  where  they  had  first  fallen.  By  skillfully 
manoeuvi'ing  her  horse,  she  had  been  completely  suc- 
cessful in  drawing  her  antagonists  some  forty  rods 
away.  But  although  she  had  emptied  her  revolvers, 
making  every  shot  tell  in  the  bodies  of  the  grizzlies, 
and  the  blood  was  streaming  from  their  huge  forms, 
they  showed  no  abatement  in  their  strength  and  fero- 


_^IUU> 


GRIZZLY  MONSTERS. 


331 


city,  and  it  was  with  an  indescribable  feeling  of  relief 
that  she  saw  her  husband  and  daughter  now  advancing 
to  her  own  resc  iie.  This  feeling  was,  however,  blended 
with  a  wife's  and  mother's  fears  lest  her  beloved  hus- 
band and  daughter  should  take  harm  from  the  savage 
monsters. 

Mr,  Dagget  and  his  daughter,  having  carefully  re- 
loaded their  rifles,  had  now  crept  up  cautiously  behind, 
and  watching  their  opportunity,  had  planted  a  ball 
squarely  in  each  of  the  bears,  just  behind  their  fore- 
shoulders.  This  appeared  to  be  the  finishing  stroke, 
and  the  brutes  stretched  themselves  on  the  plain — to 
all  appearance  lifeless. 

Francois  and  Michael  were  then  placed  in  as  com- 
fortable a  position  as  possible ;  the  Colonel  was  brought 
out  of  the  thicket;  the  mules  and  stray  horses  wore 
brought  back  to  camp ;  and  then  a  consultation  was 
held  between  the  Daggets  as  to  what  should  be  done 
for  the  sufferers.  Refreshment  was  given  them ;  some 
attempts  at  rude  surgery  were  made  in  the  way  of 
bandaging  and  setting  the  broken  limbs  and  dislocated 
shoulders.  It  was  sixty  miles  to  Fort  Laramie ;  the 
night  was  on  them,  and  the  best  course  seemed  to  be 
to  rest  their  jaded  steeds  and  start  for  a  surgeon  early 
in  the  morning. 

This  course  would  have  been  pursued,  but  for  an- 
other disaster,  which  occurred  just  as  they  were  pre- 
paring to  rest  for  the  night.  Mr.  Dagget,  from  pure 
curiosity,  was  prompted  to  examine  the  carcasses  of  the 
bears.  He  noticed  that  one  of  them  had  dragged 
itself  some  distance  from  where  it  fell  towards  a 
thicket,  but  lay  on  its  side  as  if  dead.  With  a  hunter's 
curiosity,  he  lifted  one  of  its  forepaws  to  examine  the 


332 


ENCOUNTERS  WITH  WILD  BEASTS. 


It 


position  of  the  death-wound,  when  the  brute  rose  witK 
a  terrific  growl  and  struck  Mr.  Dagget's  arm  with  its 
paw,  breaking  it  like  a  pipe-stem,  and  then,  rolling 
over,  groaned  away  its  life,  which  it  had  thus  far  clung 
to  with  such  fatal  tenacity. 

This  was  too  much  for  the  equanimity  of  Mrs.  Dag- 
get.  The  moans  of  the  guides,  with  broken  limbs, 
which  had  already  swelled  to  a  frightful  size,  and  the 
j^ain  which  Col.  Ansley  and  her  husband  strove  in  vain 
to  conceal,  were  too  harrowing  to  her  woman's  nature 
to  permit  her  to  rest  quietly  in  camp  that  night.  She 
was  not  long  in  adopting  the  seemingly  desperate  res- 
olution of  riding  to  the  Fort  and  bringing  back  a 
nurse  and  surgeon. 

Whispering  to  her  daughter,  she  informed  her  of 
her  determination,  and  quickly  saddling  the  swiftest 
and  freshest  of  the  horses,  she  led  him  softly  out  from 
the  camp,  and,  mounting,  set  her  face  southward,  and 
touched  the  horse  lightly  with  the  whip.  The  gener- 
ous beast  seemed,  by  instinct,  to  understand  his  rider's 
errand,  and  bounded  over  the  wild  plain  with  a  kind 
of  cheerful  alacrity  that  rendered  unnecessary  any 
further  urging. 

The  sky  was  overcast,  so  that  she  had  no  stars  to 
guide  her  course,  and  was  obliged  to  guess  the  route 
which  the  party  had  followed  from  the  Fort.  By- 
and-by  she  struck  a  trail,  which  she  thought  she 
recognized  as  the  one  over  which  they  had  come  after 
leaving  the  Platte  River.  For  four  hours  she  rode 
forward,  the  horse  not  flagging  in  his  steady  gallop. 
According  to  her  calculations,  she  must  have  made 
forty  miles  of  her  journey,  and  she  was  anticipating 
that  by  the  break  of  day  she  would  have  made  the 


THE  MIDNIGHT  RIDE. 


333 


Fort,  when,  turning  her  eyes  upward  to  the  left,  she 
saw — through  the  clouds  that  had  rifted  for  the  first 
time — the  great  dipper,  and  knew  at  once  that  instead 
of  riding  southward,  she  had  been  riding  eastward, 
and  must  be  now  at  least  seventy  miles  from  the  Fort, 
instead  of  being  within  twenty  miles  of  it,  as  she  had 
supposed. 

Her  horse  began  to  show  symptoms  of  fatigue. 
She  slowed  him  to  a  walk  as  she  turned  his  head  lo 
the  southwest,  and  pursued  her  course  sluggishly 
across  the  plains.  Erelong  the  blackness  of  night 
faded  into  gray,  and  then  came  twilight  streaks,  which 
showed  her  the  dreary  country  she  was  passing 
through.  It  was  a  vast  sandy  plain,  thinly  dotted 
with  sage-bush  and  other  stunted  shrubs.  The  sun 
rose  bright  and  hot,  and,  until  ten  o'clock,  she  pur- 
sued her  way  not  faster  than  two  miles  an  hour.  Her 
horse  now  gave  out,  and  refused  to  move  a  step.  She 
dismounted  and  sat  down  on  the  sand  beside  a  sage- 
bush,  which  partially  sheltered  her  from  the  sun's 
rays. 

"We  continue  our  narrative  with  Mrs.  Dagget's  own 
account  of  her  perilous  adventure : — 

"  For  nearly  two  hours  I  sat  on  the  ground,  while 
my  poor  horse  feebly  staggered'  from  bush  to  bush, 
and  nibbled  at  the  stunted  herbage.  I  then  remount- 
ed him  and  pursued  my  way,  at  a  snail's  pace,  towards 
the  Fort.  The  most  serious  apprehension  I  entertained 
at  this  moment  was  that  of  sun-stroke,  as  my  head  was 
only  shielded  from  the  rays  by  a  white  handkerchief ; 
my  hat  had  blown  off  in  the  conflict  with  the  bears, 
and,  in  my  distress  and  anxiety  to  start  for  assistance, 
I  had  not  stopped  to  look  for  it.    I  felt  no  hunger,  but 


■ 


334 


FNCOUNTEBS  WITB  WI.\,D  BEASTS. 


U    Siii 


a  little  after  noon,  when  the  burning  heat  of  the  sun 
wa.^  reflected  with  double  violence  from  the  hot  sand, 
and  the  distant  riuges  of  the  hills,  seen  through  the 
ascending  vapor,  seemed  to  wave  and  fluctuate  like  the 
unsettled  sea,  I  became  faint  with  thirst,  and  climbed 
a  tree  in  hopes  of  seeing  distant  smoke  or  other 
appearance  of  a  human  habitation.  But  in  vainj 
nothing  appeared  all  around  but  thick  underwood  and 
hillocks  of  white  sand, 

"My  thirst  by  this  time  became  insufferable;  my 
mouth  w^as  parched  and  inflamed;  a  suddeii  dimness 
would  frequently  come  over  my  eyes  with  otlier  symp' 
toms  of  fainting ;  and  my  horse,  being  burely  uble  to 
Avalk,  I  began  seriously  to  apprehend  that  I  should 
perlclx  of  thirst.  To  relieve  the  burning  pain  in  my 
mouth  or  throaf,  I  chewed  the  leaves  of  differen"^. 
shruljs,  but  found  them  all  bitter,  and  of  no  real  service 
to  me. 

"A  little  beibre  suufat,  having  reached  the  top  of  a 
gentle  rising,  I  climbed  a  high  tree,  from  the  topmost 
branches  of  which  I  cast  a  melancholy  look  over  the 
barren  wildornest^,  but  without  discovering  the  most 
distant  trace  of  a  human  dwelling.  The  same  dismal 
unifor-nity  of  shrubs  and  sand  overywliere  presented 
itsel'^,  and  t le  horlzOn  was  as  level  and  uninterrupted 
as  that  of  chc  sea. 

"Descending  from  the  tree,  I  found  my  horse  devour- 
ing the  stubble  and  brushwood  with  great  avidity,  and 
as  1  ivas  now  too  faint  to  attempt  walking,  and  my 
horse  too  fatigued  to  carry  me,  I  thought  it  but  an  act 
of  humanity,  ar.d  perhaps  thj  last  I  shoidd  ever  have 
it  in  my  power  to  perform,  to  take  off  his  bridle  and 
let  him  shift  for  himself;  in  doing  which  I  \<iu  sud- 


■ 


A  MERCIFUL  STORM. 


335 


denly  affected  with  sickness  and  giddiness,  and  falling 
upon  the  sand,  I  felt  as  if  the  hour  of  death  was  fast 
approaching. 

" '  Here  then/  thought  I,  after  a  short  but  ineffectual 
struggle,  '  terminates  all  my  hopes  of  being  useful  in 
my  day  and  generation ;  here  must  the  short  span  of 
my  life  come  to  an  end !  I  cast  (as  I  believed)  a  last 
look  on  the  surrounding  scene,  and  ^ whilst  I  reflected 
on  the  awful  change  that  was  to  take  place,  this  world 
with  its  enjoyments  seemed  to  vanish  from  my  recol- 
lection. Nature,  however,  at  length  resumed  its  func- 
tions ;  and  on  recovering  my  senses,  I  found  myself 
stretched  upon  the  sand,  with  the  bridle  still  in  my 
hand,  and  the  sun  juSt  sinking  behind  the  trees.  I 
now  summoned  all  my  resolution,  and  determined  to 
make  another  effort  to  prolong  my  existence.  And 
as  the  evening  was  somewhat  cool,  I  resolved  to  travel 
as  far  as  my  limbs  would  carry  me,  in  hopes  of  reach- 
ing (my  only  resource)  a  watering  place. 

"With  this  view,  I  put  the  bridle  on  my  horse,  and 
driving  him  before  me,  went  slowly  along  for  about  an 
hour,  when  I  perceived  some  lightning  from  the  north- 
east; a  most  delightful  sight;  for  it  promised  rain. 
The  darkness  and  lightning  increased  rapidly ;  and  in 
less  than  an  hour  I  lioard  the  Avind  roaring  among  the 
bushes.  I  had  already  opened  my  mouth  to  receive 
tlie  refreshing  drops  which  I  expected ;  but  I  was  in- 
stantly covered  witli  a  cloud  of  sand,  driven  with  such 
force  by  the  wind  as  to  give  a  very  disagreeable  sen- 
sation to  my  liico  and  arms;  and  I  was  obliged  to 
mount  my  horse  and  stop  under  a  bush,  to  prevent  be- 
ing suffocated.  The  sand  continued  to  fly  in  amazing 
quantities  for  near  an  hour  j  after  which  I  again  set 


«' 


;  V' 


336 


EXCOUNTERS  WITH  WILD  BEASTS. 


forward,  and  traveled  with  difficulty,  until  ton  o'clock. 
About  this  time,  I  was  agreeably  surprised  by  some  very 
vivid  flashes  of  lightning,  followed  by  a  few  heavy 
drops  of  rain. 

*'In  a  little  time  the  sand  ceased  to  fly,  and  I  alighted 
and  spread  out  all  my  clean  clothes  to  collect  the  rain, 
which  at  length  I  saw  would  certainly  fall.  For  more 
than  an  hour  it  rained  plentifidly,  and  I  quenched  my 
thirst  by  wringing  and  sucking  my  clothes.  A  few 
moments  after  I  fell  into  a  profound  slumber,  in  spite 
of  the  rain  which  now  fell  in  torrents. 

"  The  sky  was  clear  and  the  sun  was  well  up  when  ) 
woke :  drenched  to  the  skin  I  rose  as  soon  as  mv 
stiffened  limbs  would  permit,  and  cast  a  look  at  the 
southern  horizon.  A  line  of  black  dots  Avas  distinctly 
visible,  slowly  laoving  westward.  Mounting  my  horse, 
which  was  now  freshened  by  his  rest  and  the  scanty 
provender  which  he  had  gathered  in  the  night,  I 
pushed  on  and  succeeded  in  overtaking  the  party  which 
was  a  detachment  of  United  States  cavalry.  lieforo 
night  we  reached  the  Fort,  and  early  next  morning  I 
accompanied  a  surgeon  and  two  attendants,  with  an 
ambulance,  to  the  camp  where  we  found  all  as  we  had 
left  them,  and  overjoyed  at  my  return.  When  the 
fractures  had  l)een  reduced,  and  Col.  Ansley's  shoulder 
put  into  place,  the  whole  party  were  ])r()ught  back  to 
the  Fort,  quite  content  to  wait  awhile  before  engaging 
again  in  a  '  grizzly-boar  hunt.'  " 

The  strength  of  nerve  and  fortitude  which  maternal 
love  will  inspire,  is  In-illiantly  illustrated  by  the  story 
of  an  adventure  with  an  American  lion  which  hup- 
pened  not  long  smce  in  the  remote  territory  of  Wyo- 
ming. 


r 


A  NIGHT  WITH  A  CATAMOUST. 


337 


A  Mrs.  Vredenbergh  one  night,  during  the  absence 
of  her  husband,  had  retired  with  her  three  children,  to 
rest,  in  a  chamber,  on  the  first  floor  of  the  cabin  where 
she  hved,  when  an  enormous  mountain-lion  leaped 
into  the  room  through  an  open  window  placed  at  some 
distance  from  the  ground  for  purposes  of  ventilation. 
The  brute  after  entering  the  apartment  whined  and 
shook  itself,  and  then  lay  down  upon  the  floor  in  a 
watchful  attitude  with  its  eyes  fixed  upon  the  bed 
where  lay  Mrs.  V.,  almost  paralyzed  with  fright  at 
this  dangerous  visitor.  Her  children  were  her  first 
thought.  Two  of  them  were  in  a  cot  beyond  the  bed, 
where  she  lay ;  the  third,  an  infant  of  six  months,  was 
reposing  in  its  mother's  arms. 

Mrs.  Vredenbergh  remembered  in  an  instant  that 
perfect  silence  and  stillness  might  prevent  the  brute 
from  springing  upon  them ;  and  accordingly  she  sup- 
pressed every  breath  and  motion  on  her  own  part, 
while  her  children  luckily  were  sleeping  so  profoundly 
that  their  breathing  could  not  be  heard.  After  a  few 
minutes  the  monster  began  to  relax  the  steady  glare 
of  his  great  green  orbs,  and  winked  lazily,  purring 
loudly  as  though  in  good  humor.  The  first  powerful 
impulse  to  scream  and  fly  to  the  adjoining  apartment 
having  been  repressed,  the  matron's  heart  became 
calmer  and  her  mind  employed  itself  in  devising  a 
thousand  plans  for  saving  herself  and  her  cliildren. 
Her  husband's  gun  hung  loaded  above  the  head  of  the 
bed,  but  it  could  not  be  reached  without  rising :  if 
she  woke  her  children  she  feared  her  action  in  so  do- 
ing or  the  noise  they  would  make  would  bring  the 
monster  upon  them.  She  had  hc.ird  that  the  moun- 
tain-lion would  not  attack  human  beings  when  his 


■I 


J^ 


i 


1 


! 


(*   t  .; 

,1   'P 

■J' 


fill 


it 


838 


ENCOUNTERS  WITH  WILD  BEASTS. 


hunger  had  been  appeased,  and  fronri  a  noise  she  had 
heard  in  the  cow-house  just  after  retiring,  she  surmised 
that  the  brute  had  made  a  raid  upon  the  cattle  and 
glutted  himself ;  this  conjecture  received  confirmation 
from  the  placidity  of  the  animal's  demeanor.  Resting 
upon  this  theory  she  finally  maintained  her  original 
policy  of  perfect  stillness,  trusting  that  her  husband 
Av'ould  soon  return.  Her  greatest  fear  now  was  that 
the  infant  might  wake  and  cry,  for  she  was  well  aAvare 
that  the  ferocity  of  the  mountain-lion  is  roused  by 
nothing  so  quickly  as  the  cry  of  a  child. 

A  full  hour  passed  in  this  manner.  The  moon  was 
at  its  full,  and  from  her  position  on  the  couch,  Mrs.  Vre- 
denborgh  could,  withoui  turning  her  head,  see  every 
motion  of  the  creature.  It  lay  with  its  head  between 
its  forepaws  in  the  posture  assumed  by  the  domestic 
cat  when  in  a  state  of  semi-watchfulness,  approaching 
to  a  doze.  The  senses  of  the  matron  were  strung  to 
an  almost  painful  acuteness.  The  moonlight  stream- 
ing in  at  the  window  was  to  her  eyes  like  the  glare  of 
the  sun  at  noonday :  the  ticking  of  the  clock  on  the 
wall  fell  on  her  ears,  each  tick  like  a  sharply  pointed 
hammer  seeuinig  to  bruise  the  nerve.  A  keen  thrill 
ran  like  a  knife  through  her  tense  frame  when  the 
infant  stirred  and  moaned  in  his  sleep.  The  lion 
roused  himself  in  an  instant,  and  fixing  his  eyes  upon 
the  bed  came  towards  it  arching  his  back  and  yawn- 
ing. He  rubbed  himself  against  the  bedstead  and 
stood  for  a  moment  so  near  that  Mrs.  V.  could  have 
touched  him  with  her  hand,  then  turned  back  and 
commenced  pacing  up  and  do^vn  the  room.  The  in- 
fant fortunately  ceased  its  moaning  and  sighing  gently 
fell  back  into  its  slumbers;  and  again  the  beast,  pur- 


EMIGRATION  WESTWARD. 


339 


ring  and  winking,  lay  down  and  resumed  its  former 
position. 

The  quick  tread  of  the  lady's  husband  at  this  mo- 
ment was  heard  ;  as  he  put  his  hand  upon  the  latch  to 
enter,  Mrs.  V.  could  contain  herself  no  longer,  and 
uttered  a  series  of  loud  shrieks.  The  lion,  rising, 
bounded  over  the  head  of  Mr.  Vredenbergh  as  he  en- 
tered the  cabin,  and  disappeared  in  the  forest. 

The  safety  of  the  family  consisted  partly  perhaps 
in  the  fact  that  the  intruder  before  entering  the  house 
had  satiated  his  appetite  by  gorging  himself  upon  a 
calf,  the  remains  of  which  were  next  day  discovered 
in  the  cow-house  ;  but  the  preservation  of  herself  and 
children  was  also  due  to  the  self-control  with  which 
Mrs.  Vredenbergh  maintained  herself  in  that  trying 
situation. 


CHAPTER   XY. 

ACROSS  THE  CONTINENT.— ON  THE  TLAINS. 

THE  movement  of  emigration  westward  since  the 
early  part  of  the  sevontoenth  century  resembles 
the  great  ocean  billows  during  a  rising  tide.  Sweep- 
ing over  the  watery  waste  with  a  steady  roll,  dragged 
by  the  lunar  force,  each  billow  dashes  higher  and 
higher  on  the  beach,  until  the  attractive  influence  has 
been  spent  and  the  final  limit  reached.  The  spirit  of 
religious  liberty  and  of  ad>enture  carried  the  Euro- 
pean across  the  Atlantic.  This  was  the  first  wave  of 
emigration.     The  achievement  of  our  Independence 


;•     t  ■ 


340        ACROSS  THE  CONTINENT— ON  THE  PLAINS. 

gave  the  next  great  impetus  to  the  ino\ement.  The 
acquisition  of  California  and  the  discovery  of  gold 
was  the  third  stimulus  that  carried  our  race  across  the 
continent.  The  final  impulse  was  communicated  by 
the  completion  of  the  Pacific  railroad. 

At  the  close  of  the  Mexican  War  in  1848,  our  fron- 
tier States  were,  Texas,  Arkansas,  Missouri,  Iowa,  and 
Wisconsin.  With  the  exception  of  a  few  forts,  trading- 
posts,  missionary  stations,  and  hunters'  camps,  the 
territory  extending  from  the  line  of  furthest  settle^ 
ment  in  those  States,  westward  to  the  Pacific  Ocean, 
was  for  the  most  part  an  uninhabited  waste.  Thij* 
tract,  (including  the  Gadsden  purchase,)  covering  up- 
wards of  seventeen  hundred  thousand  square  milea 
and  nearly  half  as  large  as  the  whole  of  Europe,  was 
now  to  be  penetrated,  explored,  reclaimed,  and  added 
to  the  area  of  civilization. 

The  pioneer  army  of  occupation  who  were  to  com- 
mence this  mighty  work  moved  through  Missouri  and 
Iowa,  and  crossing  the  turbid  flood  which  formed  one 
of  the  great  natural  boundaries  of  that  wild  empire, 
saw  before  them  the  vast  plains  of  Nebraska  and 
Kansas  stretching  with  scarcely  a  break  for  five  hun- 
dred miles  as  the  crow  flies  to  the  foot-hills  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains.  The  Platte,  the  Kansas,  and  the 
Arkansas,  with  their  tributaries,  indicated  the  general 
bearings  of  the  march,  the  sun  and  moon  were  uner- 
ring guides. 

The  host  divided  itself :  one  part  spread  over  and 
tilled  the  rich  oountrv  whicli  extcnids  for  two  hundred 
miles  west  of  the  Missouri  Kiver;  another  part  grazed 
its  flocks  and  IumtIs  on  the  pasture  gnmnd  beyond; 
another,  crossing  the   liell,  of  desert^  settled  in  the 


MARCH  OF  THE  EMIGRANTS. 


341 


picturesque  region  between  the  barrens  and  the  foot- 
hills ;  ai  her  penetrated  into  the  mountains  and 
planted  itself  in  the  labyrinthian  valleys  and  on  the 
lofty  table  lands  between  the  Black  Hills  and  the 
California  Sierras ;  another  more  boldly  marched  a 
thousand  miles  across  a  wilderness  of  mountain  ranges, 
and  settled  on  the  slope  which *descends  to  the  shores 
of  the  Pacific. 

The  rivers  and  streams  between  the  Missouri  and 
the  mountains,  and  latterly  the  railroads,  were  the 
axes  around  which  population  gathered  and  turned 
itself.  Here  were  the  dwelling-places  of  the  settlers ; 
here  woman's  work  was  to  be  done  and  her  influence 
to  be  employed  in  building  up  the  empire  on  the 
plains. 

We  have  stated  how,  by  a  series  of  processes  extend- 
ing through  successive  generations  and  the  lapse  of 
centuries,  she  grew  more  and  more  capable  to  fulfill 
her  mission  on  this  continent,  and  how,  as  the  physical 
and  moral  difficulties  that  beset  frontier-life  multiplied, 
cihe  gathered  corresponding  strength  and  faculties  to 
meet  them.  In  entering  that  new  field  of  pioneer 
enterprise  which  lay  beyond  the  Missouri  River  in 
1848,  there  still,  among  others,  remained  that  one 
great  grief  over  the  separation  from  hor  old  home. 

When  the  eastern  woman  bade  farewell  to  her 
friends  and  started  for  the  plains,  it  seemed  to  her, 
and  often  proved  to  be,  a  final  adii  a.  We  say  noth- 
ing of  that  large  class  which,  being  more  scantily 
endowed  with  this  world's  goods,  were  forced  to  make 
the  long,  \veari:;<oiiie  journey  with  ox-teams  from  the 
older  Fettlemcnts  of  the  Vam-^L  We  take  the  weaker 
case  of  the  woll-te-do  emigrant  wife  who,  by  railroad, 


ii 


I.t 


342        ACROSS  THE  CONTINENT— ON  THE  PLAINS. 

and  by  steamboat  on  the  lakes  or  rivers,  reached,  after 
a  journey  of  two  thousand  miles,  the  point  upon  the 
Missouri  River  where  she  was  to  enter  the  '•  prairie 
schooner  "  and  move  out  into  that  vast  expanse ;  even 
to  her  the  pangs  of  separation  must  have  then  been 
felt  with  renewed  and  redoubled  force.  That  "  turbid 
flood  "  was  the  ca^ting-off  place.  She  was  as  one  who 
ventures  in  a  small  boat  into  a  wide,  dark  ocean,  not 
knowing  whether  she  would  ever  return  or  find  within 
the  murky  waste  a  safe  abiding  place. 

There  was  the  uncertainty;  the  positive  dangers  of 
the  route ;  the  apprehended  dangers  which  might 
surround  the  settlement;  the  new  country,  with  all 
its  difficulties,  privations,  labors,  and  trials ;  the  possi- 
bilities of  disease,  with  small  means  of  relief ;  the 
utter  solitude,  with  little  prospect  of  solacing  com- 
panionship. 

And  yet,  with  so  dreary  a  picture  presented  to  her 
mental  vision,  she  did  not  shrink  from  the  enterprise, 
nor  turn  back,  until  all  hope  of  making  a  liomc  for 
her  family  in  that  remote  region  had  fled.  Wc  recall 
a  few  instances  in  which,  after  years  of  toil,  sorrow, 
and  suffering — when  all  had  been  lost,  llie  heroine  of 
the  household  has  been  driven  back  l^y  a  stress  of 
circumstances  with  which  human  power  was  unavail- 
ing to  cope.     Such  a  case  was  that  of  Mrs.  N ,  of 

which  th€  following  are  the  substantial  facts  : 

While  a  squad  of  United  States  cavalry  were  jour- 
ncvinji:  in  186G  from  the  Great  IJcnd  of  the  Arkansas 
to  Fort  Riley,  in  Kansas,  the  connnauding  olliccr,  Hf 
he  was  sweeping  with  his  glass  the  horizolt  nt  ijio 
vast  level  pliiin  over  which  they  were  passing,  dosniied 
a  Hniidl  object  moving  towards  their  lino  uf  march 


A  HOMELESS  WANDERER. 


343 


through  the  tall  grass  some  two  miles  to  their  left. 
No  other  living  thing  was  visible  throughout  their 
field  of  vision,  and  conjecture  was  rife  as  to  what  this 
single  moving  object  in  that  lonely  waste  could  be. 
It  moved  in  a  slow  and  hesitating  way,  sometimes 
pausing,  as  if  weary,  and  then  resuming  its  sluggish 
course  towards  the  East.  They  made  it  out  clearly  at 
last.  It  was  a  solitary  woman.  She  had  a  rifle  in  her 
hand,  and  as  the  squad  changed  their  course  and 
approached  her,  she  could  be  seen  at  the  distance  of 
half  a  mile  putting  herself  in  the  posture  of  defense 
and  making  ready  to  use  her  rifle.  The  horsemen 
waved  their  hats  and  shouted  loudly  to  advise  her 
that  they  were  friends.  She  kept  her  rifle  at  her 
shoulder  and  stood  like  a  statue,  until,  seeming  to  be 
reassured,  she  changed  her  attitude  and  with  tottering 
steps  approached  them. 

She  was  a  woman  under  thirty,  who  had  evidently 
been  tenderly  reared ;  small  and  fragile,  her  pale, 
wasted  face  bore  those  lines  which  mutely  tell  the  tale 
of  long  sorrow  and  suffering.  Her  appearance  awoke 
all  those  chivalrous  feelings  which  are  the  honor  of 
the  military  profession.  She  was  speecliless  with 
emotion.  The  officer  addressed  her  with  kind  and 
respectful  inquiries.  Those  were  the  first  words  of 
her  mother  tongue  she  had  heard  for  four  weeks. 
Like  the  breath  of  the  "sweet  south"  blowing  across 
the  fabled  lute,  those  syllables,  speaking  of  home  and 
friends,  relaxed  the  tension  to  wliich  her  nerves  had 
been  so  long  strung  and  she  wept.  Twice  she  essayed 
to  tell  how  she  happened  to  be  found  in  such  a 
melancbnly  situnti  jn  on  that  wild  plain,  and  twice  she 
broke  down,  subljing  with  those  convulsive  sobs  that 


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'      •'  1! 


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1  , 


344        ACROSS  THE  CONTINENT-ON  THE  PLAINS. 

show  how  the  spirit  can  shake  and  over-master  the 
frail  body. 

Weak,  weary,  and  worn  as  she  was,  they  ceased  to 
question  her,  and  preserved  a  respectful  silence, 
while  they  did  all  that  rough  soldiers  could  do  to  make 
her  comfortable.  An  army  overcoat  was  wrapped 
around  her,  stimulants  and  food  given  her,  and  one  of 
the  soldiers,  shortening  a  stirrup,  and  strapping  a  folded 
blanket  over  his  saddle,  made  a  comfortable  seat  upon 
his  horse,  which  he  surrendered  to  her.  The  following 
day  she  had  acquired  sufficient  strength  to  tell  her  sad 
story. 

Three  years  before,  she,  with  her  husband  and  four 
children,  had  left  her  childhood's  home,  in  the  eastern 
part  of  Ohio,  and  set  out  for  Kansas.  Her  oldest  boy 
sickened  and  died  while  passing  through  Illinois,  and 
they  laid  him  to  rest  beneath  the  waving  prairie  grass. 
After  crossing  the  Missouri  river,  her  second  child,  a 
lovely  little  girl  of  six  years,  was  carried  off  by  the  scarlet 
fever,  and  they  left  her  sleeping  beneath  the  green 
meadow  sward  on  the  bank  of  the  Kansas. 

~  After  a  wearisome  march  of  eighty  days,  they 
reached  their  destination  on  the  Smoky  Hill  Branch  of 
the  Kansas  River,  and  lying  about  three  hundred 
miles  west  of  Fort  Leavenworth.  Here,  in  a  country 
suitable  for  grazing  and  tillage,  they  chose  their  home. 
Mr.  N.  devoted  himself  to  the  raising  of  cattle,  tilling 
only  land  enough  to  supply  the  wants  of  himself  and 
family. 

She  had  toiled  day  and  night  to  make  their  home 
comfortable  and  happy  for  her  husband  and  children. 
Fortune  smiled  upon  them.  Their  herds  multiplied 
and  throve  upon  the  rich  pasturage  and  in  the  mild 


1 


t« 


ALL  ALONE  WITH  DEATH. 


345 


air  of  the  region  where  they  grazed.  Two  more  chil- 
dren were  added  to  their  flock.  Their  roof-tree  shel- 
tered all  from  the  heats  of  summer  and  the  bleak 
winds  which  sweep  those  plains  in  the  winter  season. 
Bounteous  harvests  blessed  their  store.  They  were 
visited  by  the  red  man  only  as  a  wayfarer  and  friend. 

This  bright  sky  was  at  last  suddenly  overclouded. 
A  plague  raged  among  their  cattle.  A  swarm  of  grass- 
hoppers ravaged  their  crops.  A  drought  followed, 
which  burned  up  the  herbage.  "  Terrors,"  says,  the 
poet,  "come  not  as  single  spies,  but  in  battalions." 
Pestilence  at  last  came  to  complete  the  ruin  of  that 
hapless  household.  Her  husband  was  first  stricken 
down,  and  after  a  w^eek  of  suffering,  died  in  a  delirium, 
which,  while  it  startled  and  saddened  the  little  flock, 
kept  him  all  unapprehensive  of  the  evils  which  might 
visit  his  bereaved  family  after  his  departure.  The 
wife  dug,  with  her  own  hands,  a  shallow  grave  on  the 
bluff  where  their  house  stood,  and  bearing,  with  diffi- 
culty, in  her  slender  arms  the  wasted  remains,  laid 
them,  coffinless,  in  the  trench,  and  covering  them  with 
earth,  returned  to  the  house  to  find  her  three  oldest 
children  suffering  from  the  same  malady.  The  pesti- 
lence made  short  but  sure  work  with  their  little  frames. 
One  by  one  they  breathed  their  last  in  their  mother's 
arms.  Kissing  their  waxen  features,  she  bore  them  out 
all  alone  and  laid  them  tenderly  side  by  side  with  their 
father. 

The  little  babe*  of  four  months  was  still  the  picture 
of  health.  All  uiu  onscious  of  its  bereavements  and 
of  the  bitter  sorrows  of  her  on  whose  bosom  he  lay, 
he  throve  upon  liie  maternal  bounty  which  poured 


.1 

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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
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Sciences 
Corporation 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14S80 

(716)  873-4S03 


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Z 


I«l 


346       ACROSS  THE  CONTINENT— ON  THE  PLAINS. 


Igt 


er  frail  life  seemed  to  be  passing 
away  with  it. 

Like  some  subtle  but  potent  elixir,  which  erects  the 
vital  spirit,  and  holds  it  when  about  to  flee  from  its 
tenement,  so  did  that  sweet  babe  keep  the  mother's 
heart  pulsing  with  gentle  beat  during  the  days  which 
followed  those  forlorn  funeral  rites. 

A  week  passed,  during  which  a  great  terror  possessed 
her,  lest  she  too  should  have  the  latent  seeds  of  the 
pestilence  in  her  frame,  and  should  have  imparted  the 
dreadful  gift  to  her  babe  through  the  fountain  of 
motherhood. 

A  racking  pain  in  her  forehead,  followed  by  lassi- 
tude, told  her  alas !  that  all  she  had  shuddered  to  think 
of  was  coming  to  pass.  Weary  and  suffering,  she  laid 
herself  upon  the  couch,  which  she  prayed  but  for  her 
infant  might  be  her  last  resting  place.  Too  soon,  as 
she  watched  wiiu  a  keenness  of  vision  which  only  a 
mother  can  possess,  did  she  see  the  first  shadow  of  the 
destroyer  reflected  on  the  face  of  her  little  one.  It 
faded  like  a  flower  in  the  hot  blast  of  July, 

*'  So  softly  worn,  so  sweetly  weak," 

and  before  two  suns  had  come  and  gone,  it  lay  like  a 
bruised  lily  on  the  fever-burning  bosom  which  gave  it 
life. 

Unconsciousness  came  mercifully  to  the  poor  mother. 
For  hours  she  lay  in  blessed  oblivion.  But  the  vital 
principle,  which  often  displays  its  wondrous  power  in 
the  feeblest  frames,  asserted  its  triumph  over  death, 
and  she  awoke  again  to  the  remembrance  of  losses 
that  could  never  be  repaired  this  side  the  grave. 

Three  days  passed  before  the  fever  left  her.    She 


HER  ONLY  MEANS  OF  ESCAPE. 


347 


VA. 


arose  from  her  couch,  and,  with  shaking  frame,  laid 
her  little  withered  blossom  on  its  father's  grave,  and 
covering  it  with  a  mound  of  dried  grass,  crowned  it 
with  yellow  autumn  leaves. 

The  love  of  life  slowly  returned ;  but  the  means  to 
sustain  that  life  had  been  destroyed  by  murrain,  the 
grasshoppers,  and  the  drought.  The  household  stores 
would  suffice  but  for  a  few  days  longer.  The  only 
and  precarious  means  of  subsistence  which  would  then 
remain,  would  be  such  game  as  she  could  shoot.  The 
Indians  becoming  apprised  of  the  death  of  Mr.  N., 
had  carried  off  the  horses. 

Only  one  avenue  of  escape  was  left  her;  casting 
many  "  a  longing,  lingering  look  "  at  the  home  once 
80  happy,  but  now  so  swept  and  desolate,  she  took 
her  husband's  rifle  and  struck  boldly  out  into  the 
boundless  plain,  towards  the  trail  which  runs  from  the 
Arkansas  River  to  Fort  Riley,  and  after  several  days 
of  great  suffering  fell  in  with  friends,  as  we  have  al- 
ready described. 

The  sad  experience  of  Mrs.  N.  is  fortunately  a  rare 
one  at  the  present  day.  The  vast  area  occupied  by 
the  plains  of  Kansas  and  Nebraska,  is  in  many  re- 
spects naturally  fitted  for  those  forms  of  social  life  in 
which  woman's  work  may  be  performed  under  the  most 
favorable  circumstances ;  a  country  richly  adapted  to 
the  various  forms  of  agriculture  and  to  pastoral  oc- 
cupations ;  a  mild  and  generally  equable  climate  are 
there  well  calculated  to  shov/  the  pioneer-housewife 
at  her  best. 

Another  great  advantage  has  been  the  fact  that  this 
region  was  a  kind  of  graduating  school,  into  which 
the  antecedent   schools  of  pioneer-life   could  send 


SSSHHR 


348 


ACROSS  THE  CONTINENT— ON  THE  PLAINS. 


skilled  pupils,  who,  upon  a  fair  and  wide  field,  and  in 
a  virgin  soil,  could  build  a  civil   and  social  fabric,  , 
reflecting  past  experiences  and  embodying  a  multi 
tude  of  separate  results  into  a  large  and  harmonious 
whole.  " 

Visiting  some  years  since  the  States  of  Kansas  and 
Nebraska,  we  passed  first  through  that  rich  and  al- 
ready populous  region  in  the  eastern  part  of  the 
former  State,  which  twenty-five  years  since  was  an 
uninhabited  waste.  Here  were  all  the  appliances  of 
civilization:  the  school,  the  church,  the  town  hall; 
improved  agriculture,  the  mechanic  arts,  the  varied 
forms  of  mercantile  traffic,  and  at  the  base  of  the  fab- 
ric the  home  made  and  ordered  by  woman.  Here  but 
yesterday  was  the  IVontier  where  woman  was  perform- 
ing her  oft  before  repeated  task,  and  laying,  accord- 
ing to  her  methods  and  habits,  and  within  her  appro- 
priate sphere,  the  foundations  of  that  which  is  to-day 
a  great,  rich,  and  prosperous  social  and  civil  State. 
Here,  too,  we  saw  many  of  the  mothers,  not  yet  old, 
who  through  countless  trials,  labors,  and  perils  have 
aided  in  the  noble  work  on  which  they  now  are  look- 
ing with  such  honest  pride  and  satisfaction. 

For  many  successive  afternoons  we  passed  on  from 
city  to  city,  and  from  village  to  village.  The  sun 
preceded  us  westward ;  we  steered  our  course  directly 
towards  it,  and  each  day  as  it  sank  to  the  earth, 
brightly  and  more  brightly  glowed  the  sky  as  with 
the  purest  gold.  The  settlements  became  more  scat- 
tered, the  uninhabited  spaces  grew  wider.  We  tuere 
Hearing  one  of  the  /rentiers. 

In  the  spring  the  mead  through  which  wo  were 
passing  was  a  natural  parterre,  where  in  the  midst 


A  PICTURE  OF  THE  PLAINS. 


349 


of  the  lively  vernal  green,  bloomed  the  oxlip,  the  white 
and  blue  violet,  the  yellow-cup  dotted  with  jet,  and 
many  another  fragile  and  aromatic  member  of  the 
floral  sisterhood. 

Ascending  a  knoll  crowned  by  a  little  wood  which 
lay  like  a  green  shrub  upon  that  treeless,  grassy  plain, 
we  saw  from  this  point  the  prairie  stretching  onward 
its  loftily  waving  extent  to  the  horizon.  Here  and 
there  amidst  the  vast  stretch  arose  small  log-houses, 
which  resembled  little  birds'  nests  floating  upon  the 
ocean.  Here  and  there,  also,  were  people  harvesting 
grain. 

Among  the  harvesters  were  three  young  women, 
who  were  nimbly  binding  sheaves,  with  little  children 
around  them.  The  vastness  of  the  prairie  made  the 
harvesters  themselves  look  like  children  playing  at 
games. 

Some  distance  beyond  us,  in  the  track  we  were  pur- 
suing, we  saw  what  at  first  glance  appeared  to  be  a 
white  dahlia.  As  we  neared  it,  this  huge  white  flower 
seemed  to  be  moving ;  it  was  the  snowy  sun-bonnet 
of  a  young  school-teacher,  who  was  convoying  a  troop 
of  children  to  the  school-house,  whose  brown  roof 
showed  above  the  luxuriant  herbage.  She  seemed  to 
be  beloved  by  her  scholars,  for  they  surrounded  her 
and  clung  to  her.  She  had  been  giving  them,  it  ap- 
peared, a  lesson  in  practical  botany  ;  their  hats  were 
adorned  with  scarlet  and  yellow  blossoms,  and  they 
carried  bunches  of  oxlips  and  violets.  The  school- 
mistress had  a  face  like  a  sister  of  charity ;  the  contour 
and  lines  showed  resolution  and  patience ;  the  whole 
expression  blended  with  intelligence,  a  strong  and 
lovely  character.     She  entered  the  door  of  the  log 


Ul 


350        ACROSS  THE  CONTINENT-ON  THE  PLAINS. 

school-house,  and  gently  drew  within  it  the  youngest 
of  her  charges.  Around  the  school-house  we  saw 
other  groups  of  sturdy  boys  and  chubby  girls,  frisking 
and  shouting  gaily  as  we  drove  by. 

It  is  under  the  tuition  of  the  women  especially  that 
a  vigorous,  intelligent,  and  laborious  race  grows  up 
in  these  border  settlements  on  the  plains.  The  chil- 
dren are  taught  the  rudiments,  and  afterwards  en- 
deavor to  improve  their  condition  in  life.  The  boys 
often  enter  upon  political  and  public  careers.  The 
girls  marry  early,  and  contribute  to  make  new  socie- 
ties in  the  wilderness.  These  farms  are  the  nurserie? 
from  which  the  State  will  soon  obtain  its  officials  and 
its  teachers,  both  male  and  female. 

The  gardens,  the  dottages,  and  cabins  nearly  all 
showed  some  external  signs  of  the  embellishing  hand 
of  woman.  Entering  one  of  these  houses,  we  found 
the  men  and  young  women  out  gathering  the  harvest. 
An  elderly  woman  acted  as  our  hostess.  She  was 
maid  of  all-work,  a  chamber-maid,  cook,  dairy- woman, 
laundress,  and  children's  nurso ;  and  yet  she  found 
time  to  make  us  a  cordial  welcome.  The  house  was 
only  one  year  old,  and  rather  open  to  the  weather, 
but  bore  the  marks  of  womanly  thrift  and  even  of 
refinement. 

The  matron  who  entertained  us  displayed  piety, 
restless  activity,  humanity,  intelligence,  and  a  youth- 
fully warm  heart,  all  of  which  marked  her  as  a  type 
of  that  large  class  of  elderly  housewives  who  are 
using  the  education  which  they  acquired  in  their  girl- 
hood in  the  East  to  form  new  and  model  communities 
on  these  wide  and  rich  plains. 

We  asked  her  about  her  life  and  thus  came  to  hear, 


LIVING  IN  A  CAVE. 


351 


without  the  least  complaint  on  her  part,  of  its  many 
difficulties.  And  yet  when  her  husband  and  sons  and 
daughters  returned  home  from  the  field,  we  could  see 
that  it  was  a  joyous  and  happy  home. 

The  eldest  daughter,  Mrs.  B ,  then  a  widow 

of  twenty-five  or  six,  told  us  the  story  of  her  experi- 
ence in  border-life.  She  was  born  in  Wisconsin,  when 
as  a  territory  it  had  a  population  of  only  three  thou- 
sand. Soon  after  the  removal  of  her  father  and 
mother  to  Kansas,  and  at  the  age  of  sixteen  she  had 
married  one  of  the  most  adventurous  of  the  race  of 
young  pioneers  which  drew  their  first  breath  upon  the 
then  frontier  in  Illinois. 

Their  wedding  tour  was  in  a  prairie  schooner  from 
Atchison  to  the  semi-fertile  region  which  borders  on 
the  desert  belt  which  stretches  through  western  Ne- 
braska and  Kansas  to  New  Mexico.  Here  they  made 
their  first  home.  Life  in  that  particular  section  must 
be  a  pastoral  rather  than  an  agricultural  one :  her 
husband  accordingly  devoted  himself  almost  entirely 
to  the  raising  of  cattle.  , 

"We  hardly  need  say,  that  next,  to  the  hunter,  the 
cattle-herder  approximates  most  nearly  to  savage  life; 
his  wife  must  accordingly  find  her  position  under  such 
circumstances,  a  peculiarly  trying  one.     The  house  in 

which  Mrs.  B and  her  husband  lived  was  a  simple 

hut  constructed  by  digging  away  the  side  of  a  hill  which 
formed  the  earthen  rear  and  side  walls  of  their  dwel- 
ling, the  top  and  front  being  of  logs  also  covered  with 
earth.  Their  kitchen,  sleeping-room,  dining-room,  and 
parlor  were  re  ^v  resented  by  a  single  apartment.  Three 
men  with  their  wives  were  their  companions  in  the 
enterprise,  and  all  lived  in  similar  houses. 


Jliiiii 


SSB 


352        ACROSS  THE  CONTINENT-ON  THE  PLAINS. 

As  most  of  the  men's  time  was  occupied  in  looking 
after  their  herds  and  preventing  them  from  wandering 
too  far  or  from  being  stamped  and  stolen  by  thievish 
savages,  a  large  share  of  the  other  out-door  labors  fell 
upon  the  women.     Cheerfully  accepting  these  burdeiio 

Mrs.  B and  her  three  female  companions  tilled 

the  small  patches  of  com  and  potatoes  which  with 
pickled  beef  formed  their  only  food.  Much  of  the 
time  they  were  left  entirely  alone  and  were  alarmed 
as  well  as  annoyed  by  frequent  visits  from  Indians, 
who,  however,  abstained  from  violence,  contenting 
themselves  with  eating  what  was  given  them  and  pil- 
fering whatever  stray  articles  they  could  find. 

Three  years  were  passed  by  the  little  colony  in  this 
wild  pastoral  life.  Though  the  heats  of  summer  and 
the  sudden  storms  of  wind  in  winter,  were  severe,  dis- 
ease was  never  added  to  their  list  of  ordinary  discom- 
forts and  privations.  Two  of  the  men  twice  a  year 
drove  their  cattle  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  to  the 
nearest  railway  station,  but  none  of  the  women  ac- 
companied them  on  these  trips,  which  were  always 
looked  forward  to  by  their  husbands  as  a  relief  from 
the  monotony  of  their  life  as  herders. 

The  third  summer  after  their  arrival  was  extremely 
sultry,  and  the  drought  so  common  in  that  region, 
promised  to  be  more  than  usually  severe.  The  crops 
were  rapidly  being  consumed  by  four  weeks  of  con- 
tinuous hot,  dry  weather,  when  one  day  late  in  July, 
the  four  housewives,  who  were  sitting  together  in  the 

cabin  of  Mrs.  B ,  observed  a  sudden  darkening 

of  the  western  sky,  and  felt  sharp  eddying  gusts  of 
wind  which  blew  fitfully  from  the  southwest.  A  suc- 
cession of  small  whirlwinds  carried  aloft  the  sand  in 


A  WATERSPOUT  IN  THE  DESERT. 


353 


front  of  their  houses,  which  were  ranged  not  far  apart 
on  the  hillside. 

These  phenomena,  accompanied  with  various  other 
atmospheric  commotions,  lasted  for  half  an  hour,  and 
ceased  to  attract  their  attention.  The  wind,  however, 
continued  to  increase,  and  the  ears  of  the  four  mat- 
rons anon  caught  the  sound  of  a  dull,  steady  roar, 
which  rose  above  the  fitful  howling  of  the  blast 
They  ran  to  the  door  and  saw  a  dark  cloud  shaped 
like  a  monstrous  funnel  moving  swiftly  towards  them 
from  the  west.  The  point  of  this  funnel  was  scarcely 
more  than  one  hundred  feet  from  the  earth,  and  swayed 
like  the  car  of  a  balloon  descending  from  a  great 
height. 

Dismayed  by  this  extraordinary  spectacle  they  has- 
tened in  doors.  Scarcely  had  they  gained  shelter 
when  their  ears  were  saluted  by  a  sound  louder  than 
the  broadside  of  a  double  decker,  and  the  next  mo- 
ment the  roof  of  the  house  was  torn  away  with  tre- 
mendous force  and  almost  at  the  same  instant  a  flood 
of  water  twenty  feet  deep  swept  the  four  women  with 
the  dSbj'is  of  the  house  do^vn  the  hillside  and  whirled 
them  away  over  the  plain. 

Three  of  the  women,  including  Mrs.  B ,  se- 
verely bruised  and  half  drowned,  emerged  from  the 
torrent  when  it  spread  out  and  spent  itself  upon  the 
level ;  the  fourth  stunned  by  a  blow  from  one  of  the 
house-logs,  and  suffocated  by  the  rush  of  the  waters, 
could  not  be  resuscitated.  The  water-spout,  for  such 
was  the  agent  of  the  destruction  which  had  been 
wrought,  had  fallen  on  the  hillside  and  swept  away 

two  of  the  other  houses  besides  that  of  Mrs.  B , 

and  for  ten  days,  while  new  dwellings  could  be  con- 
•      23 


1 


354        ACROSS  THE  CONTINENT-ON  THE  PLAINS. 

structed  and  the  furniture  and  other  articles  carried 
away  could  be  recovered,  the  three  houseless  families 
were  quartered  partly  in  the  remaining  house,  and  the 
rest  encamped  under  the  open  sky,  where  they  suf- 
fered additional  discomfort  from  the  thunder  storms  in 
the  night,  which  followed  the  water-spout. 

The  next  summer  they  were  visited  by  another  dis- 
aster in  the  shape  of  grasshoppers.  Often  had  these 
terrible  pests  of  the  settlers  in  that  and  the  adjacent 
regions,  flown  in  immense  clouds  over  their  heads  dur- 
ing former  seasons,  winging  their  way  to  the  richei 
country  which  lay  to  the  east,  but  never  before  had 
they  been  attracted  to  the  scanty  patches  of  corn  and 
potatoes  which  skirted  the  hovels  where  the  herders 
dwelt.  But  early  in  July  of  that  year  a  swarm  set- 
tled down  almost  ancle  deep  on  the  little  strip  of 
ploughed  land,  and  within  th*^  space  between  the  rising 
and  the  setting  of  the  sun,  every  vestige  of  greenness 
had  disappeared  as  if  burned  Avith  fire. 

After  a  short  consultation  that  evening,  the  whole 
party  determined  to  take  time  by  the  forelock,  and 
abandoning  their  cabins  remove  with  their  household 
goods  and  herds  of  cattle  before  the  insect  plunderers 
had  prepared  the  way  for  a  famine  which  they  were 
certain  to  do  before  many  days.  Hastily  loading  their 
carts  with  their  household  goods  and  stores,  and  col- 
lecting their  cattle,  five  hundred  in  number,  they  set 
out  for  the  Missouri  River,  three  hundred  miles 
distant. 

Having  reached  their  destination  they  sold  all  their 
cattle,  and  after  resting  a  few  days  joined  a  company 
of  five  pioneers  who  were  traveling  over  the  military 
road,  via  Fort  Kearney  and  through  the  Platte  valley, 


LIFE  IN  DUFFALOLAND. 


355 


it 


with  the  intention  of  settling  in  the  picturesque  and 
well  watered  region  east  of  the  foot-hills  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  and  slaughtering  buffaloes  for  their  skins. 

Mrs.  B ,  and  her  two  female  companions,  with 

a  shrewd  eye  to  profit,  concluded  an  arrangement 
with  the  hunters  by  which  they  were  to  board  and 
make  the  whole  party  comfortable,  in  their  capacity 
as  housewives,  for  a  certain  share  in  the  profits  of  the 
buflalo  skins,  their  husbands  joining  the  party  as 
hunters. 

All  the  necessary  preparations  having  been  made, 
they  set  out  on  horse-back  with  ten  pack-mules,  and 
made  rapid  progress,  reaching  the  buffalo  country  with- 
out accident  in  twenty-two  days. 

Here  the  women  occasionally  joined  in  the  hunt, 
and  being  fearless  riders  as  well  as  good  shots  added  a 
few  buffalo  robes  to  their  own  account.     On  one  of 

these  hunts,  Mrs.  B ,  becoming  separated  from 

the  party  while  following  a  stray  bison  with  too  much 
ardor,  reached  a  small  valley  which  looked  as  if  it 
might  be  a  favorite  grazing  ground  for  the  brutes. 
The  wind  blew  in  her  face  as  she  rode,  and  owing  to 
this  circumstance,  the  bison  being  a  quick  scented  ani- 
mal, she  was  enabled  to  approach  a  solitary  bull  feed- 
ing by  a  stream  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  and  dispatched 
it  by  a  shot  from  her  rifle. 

Dismounting,  she  whipped  out  her  hunting  knife 
and  was  proceeding  to  flay  the  carcass,  when  she  was 
attracted  by  a  low  rumbling  sound  which  shook  the 
earth,  and  looking  up  the  steep  bluff  at  the  foot 
of  which  she  stood,  saw  a  herd  which  must  have  con- 
tained ten  thousand  bison,  plunging  madly  down  upon 
her.     Her  horse  taking  fright  broke  away  from  the 


w 


356        ACROSS  TBE  CONTINENT-ON  THE  PLAINS. 

bush  to  which  he  was  fastened  and  galloped  oflf!     Mrs. 

B ran  after  him  at  the  top  of  her  speed,  but  was 

conscious  that  the  black  mass  behind  her  would  soon 
overtake  and  trample  her  under  foot,  such  was  the  im- 
petus they  had  received  in  their  course  down  the  hill. 

Not  a  tree  was  in  sight,  but  remembering  two  or 
three  sink-holes  which  she  had  seen  beside  a  clump 
of  bushes  near  the  spot  v^here  she  had  taken  aim  at 
the  bull-bison,  she  hastened  thither  and  succeeded  in 
dropping  into  one  some  ten  feet  in  depth  jrst  as  the 
leaders  of  the  herd  were  almost  upon  her.  Lying 
there  panting  and  up  to  her  waist  in  water,  she  heard 
the  shaggy  battalions  sweep  over  her,  and,  a  moment 
after  they  had  passed,  caught  the  sound  of  voices. 
Emerging  cautiously  for  fear  of  Indians,  which  were 
swarming  in  the  region,  she  saw  four  of  the  huntera 
whom  she  had  left  an  hour  before  galloping  in  hoi 
pursuit  of  the  herd.  The  five  other  hunters  coming 
up  in  front  of  the  herd  as  it  was  commencing  to  climb 
the  bluff  on  the  other  side  of  the  valley,  succeeding 
in  turning  the  terrified  multitude  to  one  side,  and 

when  they  came  up  with  Mrs.  B she  saw  they 

had  caught  her  horse,  which  had  met  them  as  it  was 
galloping  homeward. 

Thus  supplied  with  a  steed  she  mounted,  and  regain- 
ing her  rifle  which  she  had  dropped  in  her  flight, 
nothing  daunted  by  the  danger  she  had  so  narrowly 
escaped,  joined  in  the  hunt  which  ended  in  a  perfect 
battue.  The  hunters  succeeded  in  driving  a  part  of 
the  herd  into  a  narrow  gorge  and  strewing  the  ground 
with  carcasses. 

Three  months  of  this  wild  life  made  our  heroine 
pine  for  more  quiet  pursuits,  and  she  induced  her 


%- 


A  QUIET  LIFE. 


357 


husband  to  return  to  the  frontier  of  eastern  Nebraska, 
where,  with  the  profits  of  the  cattle  enterprise  and 
the  hunt,  a  large  tract  was  purchased  on  one  of  the 
tributaries  of  the  Platte.  Here  after  six  years  of 
labor,  they  built  up  a  model  fann,  well  stocked  with 
choice  breeds  of  cattle,  planted  with  nurseries  of  fruit 
trees,  and  laid  down  to  grain.  Attracted  by  the  story 
of  their  success,  other  settlers  flocked  into  the  region. 
The  completion  of  the  Pacific  Railroad  soon  ari:;;r 
furnished  them  with  an  easy  access  to  market.     Every 

thing  went  on  prosperously  till  the  death  of  Mr.  B 

from  a  casualty.     But  notwithstanding  this  lor^^;  Mrs. 

B kept  nj*  ihe  noble  farm  which  her  energy  and 

perseverance  had  done  so  much  to  make  what  it  was. 
She  was  then  on  a  visit  to  her  father's  family  in 
Kansas,  where  we  met  her,  and  had  invited  her  father, 
mother,  and  sisters  to  remove  to  her  home  in  Nebraska, 
which  they  were  intending  shortly  to  do. 

The  whole  family  showed  evidence  of  the  possession 
of  the  same  bold  and  energetic  character  which  the 
ieldest  daughter  had  displayed  during  her  ten  years' 
experience  on  the  extreme  frontier,  beside  those  other 
qualities  both  of  heart  and  mind  which  mark  the  true 
pioneer  woman. 

Heartfelt  kindness  and  hospitality,  seriousness  and 
mirth  in  the  family  circle, — these  characteristics  of 
border  life,  when  it  is  good,  had  all  been  transplanted 
into  the  western  wilderness  by  these  colonists.  That 
day  among  the  dwellers  of  the  plain;  that  fine  old 
lady;  those  handsome,  fearless,  warm-hearted,  kind, 
and  modest  young  women ;  that  domestic  life ;  that 
rich  hospitality,  combined  to  show  how  much  hnppi- 
ness  may  be  enjoyed  in  those  frontier  homes,  where 
woman  is  the  presiding  genius. 


I 


\i) 

'     '      ■;. 

li 

-.           ■■■'«w- 

'    ,          ./■■' 

- 1 

CHAPTEE    XYI. 


WOMAN  AS  A  ailSSIONARY  TO  THE  INDIANS. 


M 


44 


HOW  beautiful  upon  the  mountains  are  the  feet 
of  him  that  bringeth  good  tidings :  that  pub- 
lisheth  peace :  that  bringeth  good  tidings  of  good  :  that 
publisheth  salvation." 

Among  the  faithful  messengers  who  have  borne  this 
Gospel  of  peace  to  the  benighted  red  man,  there  have 
been  many  devoted  and  pious  women.  The  story  of 
woman  as  a  missionary  in  all  climes  and  countries 
contains  in  itself  the  elements  of  the  moral-sublime. 
History  has  not  recorded, — poetry  itself  has  seldom 
portrayed  more  affecting  exhibitions  of  Christian  forti- 
tude, of  feminine  heroism,  and  of  all  the  noble  and 
g<  uerous  qualities  which  constitute  the  dignity  and 
glory  of  woman,  than  when  it  spreads  before  the 
wondering  eyes  of  the  world  the  picture  of  her  toils, 
lier  sacrifices,  and  even  her  martyrdom,  in  this  field  of 
her  glory. 

We  see  her  in  the  pestilential  jungles  of  India,  or 
beneath  the  scorching  sun  on  Afric's  burning  sands,  or 
amid  the  rigors  of  an  Arctic  winter,  in  the  midst  of 
danger,  disease,  and  every  trial  or  hardship  that  can 
crush  the  human  heart ;  and  through  all  presenting  a 
character  equal  to  the  sternest  trial,  and  an  address 
and  fertility  of  resource  which  has  often  saved  her 
co-workers  and  herself  from  what  seemed  au  inevita- 
able  doom. 

(358) 


MRS.  ELIOT  AS  A  WORKER. 


359 


Such  an  exhibition  of  heroic  quahties,  such  a  picture 
of  toils,  sacrifices,  sufferings,  and  dangers,  is  also  pre- 
sented to  our  eyes  in  the  record  of  woman  as  a  mission- 
ary among  the  £erce  and  almost  untamable  aboriginal 
tribes  which  roam  over  our  American  continent.  The 
trials,  hardships,  and  perils  which  always  environ 
frontier  life,  were  doubled  and  intensified  in  that 
mission.  Taking  her  life  in  her  hand,  surrounded  by 
alien  and  hostile  influences,  often  entirely  cut  off  from 
communication  with  the  civilized  world,  armed  not 
with  carnal  weapons,  but  trusting  that  other  armor — 
the  sword  of  the  Spirit,  the  shield  of  faith,  and  the 
helmet  of  salvation — with  her  heart  full  of  love  and 
pity  for  her  dark-browed  brethren,  woman  as  a  mission- 
ary to  the  Indians  is  a  crowning  glory  of  her  age  and 
sex. 

The  influence  of  woman  in  this  field  has  been  poured 
jut  through  two  channels — one  direct,  the  other  in- 
direct ;  and  it  is  sometimes  difficult  to  decide  which 
of  these  two  methods  have  produced  the  greatest 
results.  As  an  indirect  worker,  she  has  lightened  her 
husband's  labors  as  a  missionary,  has  softened  the 
fierce  temper  of  the  pagan  tribes,  and  by  her  kind  and 
placid  ministrations  has  prepared  their  minds  for  the 
reception  of  Gospel  truth. 

As  an  example  of  such  a  worker,  Mrs.  Ann  Eliot, 
the  wife  of  the  Rev.  John  Eliot,  surnamed  the  "Apos- 
tle," stands  co?ispicuous  among  a  host.  It  was  the 
prudence  and  ;  kill  of  this  good  Avoman,  exercised  in 
her  sphere  as  a  wife,  a  mother,  a  housekeeper,  and  a 
doctress,  that  enabled  her  husband  to  carry  out  his 
devout  and  extensive  plans  and  perform  his  labors  in 
Christianizing  the  Indian  tribes  of  New  England. 


r, 


■ :  ' 


li 


360       WOMAN  AS  A  MISSroyARY  TO  THE  INDIANS.    '■ 

In  estimating  the  great  importance  of  those  pious 
and  far-reaching  plans,  we  must  bear  in  mind  the  pre- 
carious condition  of  the  New  England  Colonies  in  the 
days  of  the  "Apostle"  John  and  his  excellent  wife. 
The  slender  and  feeble  settlements  on  Plymouth  and 
Massachusetts  Bay  had  hardly  yet  taken  root,  and  were 
barely  holding  their  own  against  the  adverse  blasts  that 
swept  over  them.  A  combination  between  the  differ- 
ent savage  tribes,  by  which  they  were  surrounded, 
might  have  extinguished,  in  a  day,  the  Puritan  Colo- 
nies, and  have  set  back,  for  generations,  the  destinies 
of  the  American  continent. 

The  primary  and  unselfish  purpose  of  the  "  Apostle" 
John  Eliot  was  to  convert  these  wild  tribes  to  the 
doctrine  and  belief  of  Christ.  One  of  the  results  of 
his  labors  in  that  direction  was  also,  we  can  hardly 
doubt,  the  political  salvation  of  those  feeble  colonies. 
The  mind  and  heart  of  the  "Apostle  "  were  so  absorbed 
in  the  great  work  wherein  he  was  engaged  that  a  skill- 
ful and  practical  partner  was  absolutely  necessary  to 
enable  him  to  prepare  for  and  fully  discharge  many 
duties  which  might  properly  devolve  upon  him,  but 
from  which  his  wife  in  his  preoccupation  now  relieved 
Iiim. 

In  her  appropriate  sphere  she  also  exercised  an  im- 
portant influence,  indirectly,  in  carrying  out  her  hus- 
band's plans.  Amidst  her  devoted  attentions  to  the 
care  and  nurture  of  her  six  children  she  found  time 
for  those  many  duties  that  devolved  on  a  New  England 
housekeeper  of  the  olden  time,  when  it  was  difficult 
and  almost  impossible  to  command  the  constant  aid  of 
domestics.  To  provide  fitting  apparel  and  food  for  her 
family,  and  to  make  this  care  justly  comport  with  a 


A  ILiRE  WIFE. 


36X 


small  income,  a  free  hospitality,  and  a  large  charity, 
required  both  efficiency  and  wisdom. 

This  she  accomplished  without  hurry  of  spirit,  fret- 
fulness,  or  misgiving.  But  she  had  in  view  more  than 
this :  she  aimed  so  to  perform  her  ow^n  part  as  to  leave 
the  mind  of  her  husband  free  for  the  cares  of  his  sacred 
profession,  and  in  this  she  was  peculiarly  successful. 
Her  understanding  of  the  science  of  domestic  com- 
fort, and  her  prudence — the  fruit  of  a  correct  judg- 
ment— so  increased  by  daily  experience,  that  she 
needed  not  to  lay  her  burdens  upon  him,  or  divert  to 
domestic  cares  and  employments  the  time  and  energy 
which  he  would  fain  devote  to  God.  "The  heart  of 
her  husband  did  safely  trust  in  her,"  and  his  tender 
appreciation  of  her  policy  and  its  details  was  her 
«weet  reward. 

It  was  graceful  and  generous  for  the  wife  thus  to 
guard,  as  far  as  in  her  lay,  her  husband's  time  and 
thoughts  from  interruption.  For,  in  addition  to  his 
pastoral  labors,  in  which  he  never  spared  himself,  were 
his  missionar}^  toils  among  the  heathen.  His  poor 
Indian  people  regarded  him  as  their  father.  He  strove 
to  uplift  them  from  the  debasing  habits  of  savage  life. 

Groping  amid  their  dark  wigwams,  he  kneeled  by 
the  rude  bed  of  skins  where  the  dying  lay,  and  point- 
ed the  dim  e^  e  of  the  savage  to  the  Star  of  Bethlehem. 
They  wept  in  very  love  for  him,  and  grasped  his 
skirts  as  one  who  was  to  lead  them  to  heaven.  The 
meekness  of  his  Master  dwelt  with  him,  and  day  after 
day  he  was  a  student  of  their  uncouth  articulations, 
until  he  could  talk  with  the  half-clad  Indian  children, 
and  see  their  eyes  brighten,  for  they  understood  Avhat 
he  said.     Then  he  had  no  rest  until  the  whole  of  the 


362       WOMAN  AS  A  MISSIONARY  TO  THE  INDIANS. 

Book  of  God,  that  "  Word  "  which  has  regenerated  the 
world,  was  translated  into  their  language. 

Not  less  remarkable  was  the  assistance  lent  by  Mrs. 
Eliot  to  her  husband's  labors  in  her  capacity  as  a 
medical  assistant.  The  difficulty  of  commanding  the 
attendance  of  well  educated  physicians,  by  the  sparse 
population  of  the  colony,  rendered  it  almost  indispen- 
sable that  a  mother  should  be  not  unskillful  in  properly 
treating  those  childish  ailments  which  beset  the  first 
years  of  life.  Mrs.  Eliot's  skill  and  experience  as  a 
doctress  soon  caused  her  to  be  sought  for  by  the  sick 
and  suffering.  Among  the  poor,  with  a  large  charity, 
she  dispensed  safe  and  salutary  medicines.  Friends 
and  strangers  sought  her  in  their  sicknesses,  and  from 
such  as  were  able  she  received  some  small  remunera- 
tion, often  forced  upon  her,  and  used  to  eke  out  the 
slender  income  of  her  husband. 

The  poor  Indians,  too,  were  among  her  patients. 
Often  they  would  come  to  her  house  in  pain  and  suf- 
fering, and  she  would  cheerfully  give  them  medicine 
and  advice,  and  dismiss  them  healed  and  rejoicing. 
The  red  man  in  his  wigwam,  tossing  on  his  couch  of 
anguish,  was  visited  by  this  angel  of  mercy,  who 
bound  up  the  aching  brow,  and  cooled  the  sore  fever. 
Who  can  question  that  many  souls  were  won  to  Christ 
by  these  deeds  of  practical  charity. 

In  the  light  of  such  acts  and  such  a  life,  we  ascribe 
to  Mrs.  Eliot  no  small  share  in. the  success  of  those 
heroic  labors  by  which  five  thousand  "praying  In- 
dians "  in  New  England  were  brought  to  bear  testi- 
mony to  the  truths  of  the  Bible  and  the  powei  of 
revealed  religion. 

While  woman's  work  in  the  Indian  missions  has 


ilRS.  KIRKLAND  AMONG  THE  ONEIDAS. 


363 


been  often  indirect,  in  many  other  cases  she  has  co- 
operated directly  in  efforts  looking  to  the  conversion 
of  the  red  man.  Prominent  among  the  earher  pio- 
neers in  the  missionary  cause  was  Jemima  Bingham. 
She  came  of  a  devout  and  God-fearing  race,  being  a 
niece  of  Eleazur  Wheelock,  D.  D.,  himself  a  successful 
laborer  in  the  Indian  missionary  work,  and  was  reared 
amid  the  religious  privileges  of  her  Connecticut  home. 
There,  in  1769,  she  married  the  Rev.  Samuel  Kirkland, 
who  had  already  commenced  among  the  Oneida  Indi- 
ans those  active  and  useful  labors  which  only  termin- 
ated with  his  life. 

Entering  with  a  sustained  enthusiasm  into  the  plans 
of  her  husband,  she  shortly  after  her  marriage,  accom- 
panied him  to  his  post  of  duty  in  the  wilderness  near 
Fort  Stanwix — now  Rome.  This  was  literally  on  the 
frontier,  in  the  midst  of  a  dense  forest  which  extended 
for  hundreds  of  miles  in  every  direction,  and  was  the 
abode  of  numerous  Indian  tribes,  some  of  which  were 
hostile  to  the  white  settlers. 

Their  forest-home  was  near  the  "  Council  House  " 
of  the  Oneidas— in  the  heart  of  the  forest.  There, 
surrounded  by  the  dusky  sons  of  the  wilderness,  the 
devoted  couple,  alone  and  unaided,  commenced  their 
joint  missionary  labors.  The  gentle  manners  and  the 
indomitable  courage  and  eiierg^  of  Mr.  Kirkland,  were 
nobly  supplemented  by  the  admirable  qualities  of  his 
wife.  With  the  sweetness,  gentleness,  simplicity,  and 
delicacy  so  becoming  to  woman  under  all  circumstan- 
ces, were  blended  in  her  character,  energy  that  was 
unconquerable,  courage  that  danger  could  not  blench, 
and  firmness  that  human  power  could  not  bend. 

Faithfully,  too,  in  the  midst  of  her  missionary  la- 


m 


364       WOMAN  AS  A  MISSIONARY  TO  THE  INDIANS.        ' 

bors,  did  she  discharge  her  duties  as  a  mother.  One 
of  her  sons  rewarded  her  careful  teaching  by  rising 
to  eminence,  and  becoming  President  of  Harvard 
College. 

Prior  to  his  marriage  Mr.  Kirkland  made  his  home 
and  pursued  his  missionary  labors  at  the  "  Council 
House ;"  after  a  house  had  been  prepared  for  Mrs, 
Kirkland,  he  still  continued  to  preach  and  teach  at  the 
"  Council  House,"  addressing  the  Indians  in  their  own 
language,  which  both  he  and  his  wife  had  acquired. 
Mrs.  Kirkland  visited  the  wigwams  and  instructed  the 
squaws  and  children,  who  in  turn  flocked  to  her  house 
where  she  ministered  to  their  bodily  and  spiritual 
wants. 

The  women  and  children  of  the  tribe  were  her 
chosen  pupils.  Seated  in  circles  on  the  greensward 
beneath  the  spreading  arches  of  giant  oaks  and  maples, 
they  listened  to  her  teachings,  and  learned  from  her 
lips  the  wondrous  story  of  Christ,  who  gave  up  his 
life  on  the  cross  that  all  tribes  and  races  of  mankind 
might  live  through  Him.  Then  she  prayed  for  them 
in  the  musical  tongue  of  the  Oneidas,  and  the  "  sound- 
ing aisles  of  the  dim  woods  rang"  with  the  psalms  and 
hymns  which  she  had  taught  those  dusky  children  of 
the  foi"^st. 

The  change  wrought  by  these  ministrations  of  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Kirkland  was  m.agical.  A  peaceful  and  well- 
ordered  community,  whose  citizens  were  red  men, 
rose  in  the  wilderness,  and  many  souls  were  gathered 
into  the  fold  of  Christ. 

During  the  years  of  her  residence  and  labors  among 
the  Oneidas,  she  won  many  hearts  by  her  kind  deeds 
as  a  nurse  and  medical  benefactor  to  the  red  men  and 


A  SUNDAY-SCHOOL  ON  THE  FRONTIER. 


365 


their  wives  and  children.  She  was  thus  presented  to 
them  as  a  bright  exemplar  of  the  doctrines  which  she 
taught.  Both  she  and  her  husband  gained  a  wide  in- 
fluence among  the  Indians  of  the  region,  many  of 
whom  they  were  afterwards  and  during  the  Revolu- 
tionary contest,  able  to  win  over  to  the  patriot  cause. 

The  honor  of  having  inaugurated  Sunday-schools 
on  the  frontier,  must  be  awarded  to  woman.  Truly 
this  class  of  religious  enterprises,  in  view  of  the  cir- 
cumstances by  which  they  were  surrounded,  and  the 
results  produced,  may  be  placed  side  by  side  with  that 
missionary  work  which  looks  to  the  conversion  of  the 
pagan.  The  impressing  of  religious  truth  on  the 
minds  of  the  young,  and  preparing  them  to  build  up 
Christian  communities  in  the  wilderness,  is  in  itself 
a  great  missionary  work,  the  value  of  which  is  en- 
hanced by  the  sacrifices  and  difficulties  it  involves. 
It  was  in  Ohio  that  one  of  the  first  Sunday-schools  in 
our  country  was  kept,  with  which  the  name  of  Mrs. 
Lake  must  ever  be  identified. 

In  1787,  a  year  made  memorable  by  the  framing  of 
the  Constitution  of  the  United  States,  the  Ohio  Com- 
pany was  organized  in  Boston,  and  soon  after  built  a 
stockade  fort  at  Marietta,  Ohio,  and  named  it  Campus 
Martius.  The  year  it  was  completed,  the  Rev.  Daniel 
Storey,  a  preacher  at  Worcester,  Massachusetts,  was 
sent  out  as  a  chaplain.  He  acted  as  an  evangelist  till 
1797,  when  he  became  the  pastor  of  a  Congregational 
church  which  he  had  been  instrumental  in  collecting 
in  Marietta  and  the  adjoining  towns,  and  which  was 
organized  the  preceding  year.  He  held  that  relation 
till  the  spring  of  1804.     Probably  he  was  the  first 


866       WOMAN  AS  A  MISSIONARY  TO  THE  INDIANS. 

Protestant  minister  whose  voice  was  heard  in  the  vast 
wilderness  lying  to  the  northwest  of  the  Ohio  river. 

In  the  garrison  at  Marietta,  was  witnessed  the  form- 
ation and  successful  operation  of  one  of  the  first 
Sunday-schools  in  the  United  States.  Its  originator, 
superintendent,  and  sole  teacher,  was  Mrs.  Andrew 
Lake,  an  estimable  lady  from  New  York.  Every  Sab- 
bath, after  "  Parson  Storey  had  finished  his  public  ser- 
vices," she  collected  as  many  of  the  children  at  her 
house  as  would  attend,  and  heard  them  recite  verses 
from  the  Scriptures,  and  taught  them  the  Westminster 
catechism.  Simple  in  her  manner  of  teaching,  and 
iiffable  and  kind  in  her  disposition,  she  was  able  to  in 
terest  her  pupils — usually  about  twenty  in  number— 
and  to  win  their  affections  to  herself,  to  the  school, 
and  subsequently,  in  some  instances,  to  the  Saviour. 
A  few,  at  least,  of  the  little  children  that  used  to  sit 
on  rude  benches,  low  stools,  and  the  tops  of  meal  bags, 
and  listen  to  her  sacred  instructions  and  earnest  admo- 
nitions, have  doubtless  ere  this  become  pupils  with 
her,  in  the  "  school  of  Christ"  above. 

Among  the  many  names  especially  endeared  to  the 
friends  of  missions,  there  is  another  that  we  cannot 
forget — that  of  Sarah  L.  Smith.  Like  the  Rev.  Samuel 
Kirkland,  she  was  a  native  of  Norwich,  Connecticut. 

Her  maiden  name  was  Huntington.  She  was  born 
in  1802;  made  a  profession  of  religion  in  youth; 
became  the  wife  of  the  Rev.  Eli  Smith  in  July,  1833; 
embarked  with  him  for  Palestine  in  the  following  Sep- 
tember, and  died  at  Boojah,  near  Smyrna,  the  last  day 
of  September,  183G. 

Her  work  as  a  foreign  missionary  was  quickly  fin- 
ished.    She   labored   longer  as   a  home    missionary 


THE  MOIIEGAN  CONVERTS. 


867 


among  the  Mohegans,  who  lived  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Norwich,  and  there  displayed  most  conspicuously  the 
moral  heroism  of  her  nrture.  In  conjunction  with 
Sarah  Breed,  she  commenced  her  philanthropic  opera- 
tions in  the  year  1827.  "The  first  object  that  drew 
them  from  the  sphere  of  their  own  church  was  the 
project  of  opening  a  Sunday-school  for  the  poor  Indian 
children  of  Mohegan.  Satisfied  that  this  was  a  work 
which  would  meet  with  the  Divine  approval,  they 
marked  out  their  plans  aod  pursued  them  with  untir- 
ing energy.  Boldly  they  went  forth,  and,  guided  by 
the  rising  smoke  or  sounding  axe,  followed  the  Mohe- 
gans from  field  to  field,  and  from  hut  to  hut,  till  they 
had  thoroughly  informed  themselves  of  their  numbers, 
condition,  and  prospects.  The  opposition  they  encoun- 
tered, the  ridicule  and  opprobrium  showered  upon  them 
from  certain  quarters,  the  sullenness  of  the  natives, 
the  bluster  of  the  white  tenants,  the  brushwood  and 
dry  branches  thrown  across  their  pathway,  could  not 
discourage  them.  They  saw  no '  lions  in  the  way,'  while 
mercy,  with  pleading  looks,  beckoned  them  forward." 

"  The  Mohegans  then  numbered  a  little  more  than 
one  hundred,  only  one  of  whom  was  a  professor  of 
religion.  She  was  ninety-seven  years  of  age.  In  her 
hut  the  first  prayer-meeting  and  the  first  Sunday- 
school  gathered  by  these  young  ladies,  was  held. 

Miss  Breed  soon  removed  from  that  part  of  the 
country,  and  Miss  Huntington  continued  her  labors  for 
awhile  alone.  She  was  at  that  time  very  active  in 
securing  the  formation  of  a  society  and  the  circula- 
tion of  a  subscription,  having  for  their  object  the  erec- 
tion of  a  chapel.  She  found,  ere  long,  a  faithful  co- 
worker in  Miss  Elizabeth  Raymond.    They  taught  a 


368       WOMAN  AS  A  MISSIONARY  TO  THE  INDIANS. 


3  I: 


school  in  conjunction,  and,  aside  from  their  duties  as 
teachers,  were,  at  times,  "advisers,  counsellors,  law- 
givers, milliners,  mantua-makers,  tailoresses,  and 
almoners." 

"  The  school  was  kept  in  a  house  on  Fort  Hill,  leased 
to  a  respectable  farmer,  in  whose  family  the  young 
teachers  boarded  by  alternate  weeks,  each  going  to 
the  scene  of  labor  every  other  Sunday  morning,  and 
remaining  till  the  evening  of  the  succeeding  Sunday, 
so  that  both  were  present  in  the  Sunday-school,  which 
was  twice  as  large  as  the  other. 

A  single  incident  will  serve  to  show  the  dauntless 
resolution  which  Miss  Huntington  carried  into  her  pur- 
suits. Just  at  the  expiration  of  one  of  her  terms  ol 
service,  during  the  winter,  a  heavy  and  tempestuous 
snow  blocked  up  the  roads  with  such  high  drifts  that 
a  friend,  who  had  been  accustomed  to  go  for  her  and 
convey  her  home  in  bad  weather,  had  started  for  this 
purpose  in  his  sleigh,  but  turned  back,  discouraged. 
No  path  had  been  broken,  and  the  undertaking  was  so 
hazardous  that  he  conceived  no  woman  would  venture 
forth  at  such  a  time.  He  therefore  called  at  her 
father's  house  to  say  that  he  should  delay  going  for 
her  till  the  next  day.  What  was  his  surprise  to  be 
met  at  the  door  by  the  young  lady  herself,  who  had 
reached  home  just  before,  having  walked  the  whole 
distance  on  the  hard  crust  of  snow,  alone,  and  some  of 
the  way  over  banks  of  snow  that  entirely  obliterated 
the  walls  and  fences  by  the  roadside." 

While  at  Mohegan,  Miss  Huntington  corresponded 
with  the  Hon.  Lewis  Cass,  then  Secretary  of  War,  and 
secured  his  influence  and  the  aid  of  that  department. 
In  1832,  a  grant  of  nine  hundred  dollars  was  made 


THE  SOLDIERS  OF  CHRIST. 


369 


from  the  fund  devoted  to  the  Indian  Department,  five 
hundred  being  appropriated  towards  the  erection  of 
missionary  buildings,  and  four  for  the  support  of  a 
teacher. 

Before  leaving  the  Mohegan  for  a  wider  field,  this 
devoted  and  courageous  missionary  had  the  happiness  of 
seeing  a  chapel,  parsonage,  and  school-house  standing 
on  "  the  sequestered  land "  of  her  forest  friends,  and 
had  thus  partially  repaid  the  debt  of  social  and  moral 
obligation  to  a  tribe  who  fed  the  first  and  famishing 
settlers  in  Connecticut,  who  strove  to  protect  them 
against  the  tomahawk  of  inimical  tribes,  and  whose 
whoop  was  friendly  to  freedom  when  British  aggress- 
ors were  overriding  American  rights. 

In  most  of  the  missionary  movements  among  the 
Indian  tribes  on  our  frontier,  from  the  time  of  the 
Apostle,  John  Eliot,  to  the  present,  woman  has  taken, 
directly  or  indirectly,  an  active  part.  In  the  mission 
schools  at  Stockbridge  and  Hanover ;  among  the  Nar- 
ragansetts,  the  Senecas,  the  Iroquois,  the  Cherokees, 
the  Choctaws,  the  Creeks,  and  many  other  tribes,  we 
see  her,  as  a  missionary's  wife,  with  one  hand  sustain- 
ing her  husband  in  his  trying  labors,  while  with  the 
other  she  bears  the  blessed  gospel — a  light  to  the 
tawny  Gentiles  of  our  American  wilderness.  This 
passing  tribute  is  due  to  these  devout  and  zealous 
sisters.  Their  lives  were  passed  far  from  their  homes 
and  kindred,  amid  an  unceasing  round  of  labors  and 
trials,  and  not  seldom  they  met  a  martyr's  death  at  the 
hands  of  those  whom  they  were  seeking  to  benefit. 

The  following  record  of  a  passage  in  the  life  of  a 
faithful  minister  and  his  wife,  when  about  to  leave  a 
beloved  people  and  enter  on  the  missionary  work,  will 
24 


h» 


i 


i 


370       WOMAN  AS  A  MISSIONARY  TO  THE  INDIANS. 

show  how  hard  it  is  for  woman  to  sunder  the  ties  that 
bind  her  to  her  home,  and  go  she  knows  not  where,  and 
yet  with  what  childlike  trust  she  enters  that  perilous 
and  difficult  field  of  effort  to  which  she  is  called. 

"My  dear  good  wife  seems  more  than  usually 
depressed  at  the  thought  of  leaving  the  many  friends 
who  have  endeared  themselves  to  her  by  their  kind 
offices.  It  is  hard  enough  for  me  to  break  the  bands 
of  love  that  a  year's  tender  intercourse  with  the 
people  has  thrown  around  my  heart.  But  this  I  could 
bear,  if  other  and  gentler  hearts  than  mine  were  not 
made  to  suffer;  if  other  and  dearer  ties  than  those  I 
have  formed  had  not  to  be  broken.  My  wife  is  warm 
in  her  attachments.  She  loves  companionship.  On 
every  new  field  where  our  changing  lot  is  cast,  sha 
forms  intimate  friendships  with  those  who  are  of  a  lika 
spirit  with  herself,  if  such  are  to  be  found.  Some-- 
times  she  meets  none  to  whom  she  can  open  her  heart 
of  hearts — none  who  can  sympathize  with  her.  But 
here  it  has  been  different.  She  has  found  companions 
and  friends — ^lovers  of  the  good,  true,  and  beautiful, 
with  whom  she  has  often  taken  sweet  counsel.  To  part 
with  these  and  go,  where  and  among  whom  she  can- 
not tell,  is  indeed  a  hard  trial.  I  passed  through  her 
room  a  little  while  ago,  and  saw  her  sitting  by  the  bed, 
leaning  her  arm  upon  it,  with  her  head  upon  her 
hand,  and  looking  pensively  out  upon  the  beautiful 
landscape  that  stretches  far  away  in  varied  woodland, 
meadow,  glittering  stream,  and  distant  mountain. 
There  was  a  tear  upon  her  cheek.  This  little  mes- 
senger from  within,  telling  of  a  sad  heart,  touched  my 
feelings. 

"  Mary,"  said  I,  sitting  down  by  her  side,  and  taking 


< 


A  PASSAGE  IN  A  MINISTER'S  LIFE. 


371 


her  hand  in  one  of  mine,  while  with  the  other  I 
pointed  upward,  "  He  will  go  with  us,  and  He  is  our 
best  and  kindest  friend.  If  we  would  wear  the  crown, 
we  must  endure  the  cross.  '  For  our  light  affliction, 
which  is  but  for  a  moment,  worketh  for  us  a  far  more 
exceeding  weight  of  glory.'  We  are  only  pilgrims 
and  sojourners  here ;  but  our  mission  is  a  high  and 
holy  one — ever  to  save  the  souls  of  our  fellow-men. 
Think  of  that,  Mary.  Would  you  linger  here  when 
our  Master  calls  us  away,  to  labor  somewhere  else  in 
His  vineyard  ?  Think  of  the  Lord,  when  upon  earth. 
Remember  how  He  suffered  for  us.  Hear  Hun  say, 
*The  foxes  have  holes,  and  the  birds  of  the  air  have 
nests,  but  the  Son  of  Man  hath  not  where  to  lay  his 
head.*  And  shall  the  servant  be  greater  than  his 
Master?" 

"  I  know  I  am  but  a  poor,  weak,  murmuring  crea- 
ture," she  said,  looking  up  into  my  face,  with  over- 
flowing eyes.  "  But  I  ask  daily  for  grace  to  make  me 
resigned  to  His  holy  will.  I  do  not  wish  to  remain  here 
when  I  know  it  is  the  Lord  who  calls  me  away.  Still 
my  weak  heart  cannot  help  feeling  pain  at  the  thought 
of  parting  from  our  dear  little  home  and  our  good 
friends  who  have  been  so  kind  to  us,  and  going,  I 
know  not  whither.  My  woman's  heart  is  weak,  while 
my  faith  is  strong.  Thus  far  the  Lord  has  been  better 
to  me  than  all  my  feais.  Why,  then,  should  I  hold 
back,  and  feel  so  reluctant  to  enter  the  path  His  wis- 
dom points  out  ?  I  know  if  He  were  to  lead  me  to 
prison,  or  to  death,  that  it  would  be  good  for  me.  If 
He  were  to  slay  me,  yet  would  I  trust  in  him." 

When  we  compare  the  gret  ness  of  the  ends  secured, 
with  the  smallness  of  the  m'  ans  employed,  a  review 


^■■i 


'  I 


t 


372      WOMAN  AS  A  MISSIONARY  TO  THE  INDIANS. 

of  the  results  of  the  Moravian  Missions,  throughout 
the  heathen  world,  will  strike  us  with  astonishment. 

The  character  of  the  Moravian  women  peculiarly 
fitted  them  for  the  work.  They  were  a  mixed  race. 
The  fiery  enthusiasm  of  the  Sclaves  was  in  them 
blended  with  the  steadfast  energy  and  patient  docility 
of  the  Germans.  The  fire  of  their  natures  was  a 
holy  fire — a  lambent  flame  which  lighted  but  did  not 
destroy.  Their  creed  was  one  of  love;  it  was  a  joyful 
jper suasion  of  their  interest  in  Christ  and  their  title  to 
His  purchased  salvation.  Here,  then,  we  have  the 
key  to  the  success  which  attended  the  Moravian  Mis- 
sions in  all  parts  of  the  world.  They  brought  tlip 
heathen  to  the  feet  of  Christ  by  the  spirit  of  love ; 
they  faced  every  danger  and  endured  every  hardship 
in  the  cause  of  their  Master,  for  theirs'  was  a  joyful 
persuasion.  They  were  the  ^^  HerrenhutterSy*  the 
soldiers  of  the  Lord,  and  yet  in  their  lives  they  were 
representatives  of  the  Prince  of  Peace,  and  sought  to 
gather  about  them  in  this  life  the  emblems  of  heaven. 

It  was  before  the  middle  of  the  last  century  that 
those  gentle  and  pious  brothers  and  sisters  commenced 
their  especial  labors  among  the  North  American 
Indians,  and  to-day  those  labors  have  not  ceased. 

The  story  of  these  Moravian  Missions  for  nearly  a 
century  is  one  long  religious  epic  poem,  full  of  action, 
suffering,  battle,  bereavement, — all  illumined  with  the 
dauntless,  fervent,  Christ-like  spirit  which  bore  these 
gentle  ministers  along  their  high  career.  Their  prin- 
cipal field  of  labor  for  the  first  forty  years  was  Penn- 
sylvania, where  they  established  missionnry  stations  at 
Bethlehem,  Gnadcnhutten,  (tents  of  grace,)  Nazareth, 


THE  INDIAN  "TENTS  OF  GRACE." 


373 


,t 


Friedenshutten,  (tents  of  peace,)  Wechquetank,  and 
many  other  places. 

The  settlement  at  Gnadenhutten  was  the  most 
important  and  the  most  interesting,  historically  con- 
sided,  of  all  the  stations.  Here  the  Moravian  brothers 
and  sisters  showed  themselves  at  their  best,  and  that 
is  saying  much.  Assuming  every  burden,  making 
every  sacrifice,  and  performing  the  hardest  service, 
they  at  the  same  time  displayed  consummate  tact  and 
address  in  conciliating  their  red  brethren,  taking  their 
meals  in  common  with  them,  and  even  adopting  the 
Indian  costume. 

In  a  short  time  Gnadenhutten  became  a  regular 
and  pleasant  town.  The  church  stood  in  a  valley. 
On  one  side  were  the  Indian  houses,  in  the  form  of  a 
erescent,  upon  a  rising  ground;  on  the  other,  the 
houses  of  the  missionaries  and  a  burying-ground.  The 
[ndians  labored  diligently  in  the  fields,  one  of  which 
was  allotted  to  each  family ;  and  as  these  became  too 
small,  the  brethren  purchased  a  neighboring  planta- 
tion and  erected  a  saw-mill.  Hunting,  however,  con- 
tinued to  be  their  usual  occupation.  As  this  is  a 
precarious  mode  of  subsistence,  a  supply  of  provisions 
was  constantly  forwarded  from  Bethlehem.  The  con- 
gregation increased  by  degrees  to  about  five  hundred 
persons.  A  new  place  of  worship  was  opened  and  a 
school  established.  The  place  was  visited  by  many 
heathen  Indians,  who  were  struck  with  the  order  and 
happiness  of  the  converts,  and  were  prepared  to  think 
favorably  of  the  Christian  religion. 

Besides  laboring  ^vrith  unwearied  diligence  at  Gna- 
denhutten, the  brethren  made  frequent  journeys 
among   the  Indians  in  other  parts.     Several  estab- 


is 


,9 


■  X 

3 


Mr 


f 


374       WOMAN  AS  A  MlSSrOXARY  TO  THE  INDIANS. 

lisliinents  were  attempted,  among  which  one  was 
at  Shomoken,  on  the  Susquehanna  river.  This  was 
attended  with  great  expense,  as  every  necessary  of 
life  was  carried  from  Bethleliem.  The  niissionjiries 
were  likewise  in  constant  danger  of  their  lives  from 
the  drunken  frohcs  of  the  natives.  They  visited 
Onondaga,  the  chief  town  of  the  Iroquois,  and  the  seat 
of  their  great  council,  and  obtained  permission  for  two 
of  them  to  settle  there  and  learn  the  language.  They 
went,  but  suffered  much  from  want,  being  obliged  to 
hunt,  or  seek  roots  in  th^  forest,  for  subsistence. 

The  missionaries'  wives  imited  with  their  husbands 
in  these  arduous  labors  in  the  wilderness,  and  their 
kind  offices  and  gentle  ways  did  much  to  render  the 
missionary  work  entirely  effectual. 

Under  such  auspices  for  eight  years,  Gnadenhutten 
was  the  smilin^^;  abode  of  peace,  happiness,  and  prosper- 
ity. The  good  work  was  bringing  forth  its  legitimate 
fruits.  A  large  Indian  congregation  was  being  m- 
structed  in  the  Word  and  prepared  to  disseminate  the 
doctrines  of  Christ  among  their  heathen  brethren, 
when  the  din  of  tiie  French  and  Indian  war  was  heard 
on  the  border.  Tiie  Moravians  in  their  various  settle- 
ments were  soon  surrounded  literally  with  circles  of 
blood  and  flame.  Some  of  them  lied  eastward  to  the 
larger  towns ;  others  sought  concealment  in  the  depths 
of  the  forest  or  on  the  mountains. 

The  Brethren  at  Bethlehem  and  Gnadenhutten  re- 
solved to  stand  v.i  th.Mr  post.  Slowly  tlie  fiery  circles 
encompassed  them  closely  and  more  closely  till  No- 
vember, 1755,  when  the  long  expected  bolt  fell. 

The  missionaries  with  their  wives  and  families  were 
assembled  in  one  house  partaking  of  their  evening 


A  CIRCLE  OF  BLOOD  AND  FLAME. 


375 


i, 


meal,  when  a  party  of  French  Indians  approached. 
Hearing  the  barking  of  the  dogs,  Senseman,  one  of 
the  Brethren,  went  to  the  back  door  and  others  at  the 
same  time  hearing  the  report  of  a  gun  rushed  to  tlie 
front  door,  where  they  were  met  by  a  band  of  hide- 
ously painted  savages  with  guns  pointed  ready  to  fire 
the  moment  the  door  was  opened. 

The  Rev.  Martin  Nitsehman  fell  dead  in  the  door- 
way. His  wife  and  others  were  wounded,  but  fled 
with  the  rest  up  to  the  garret  and  barricaded  the  door 
with  bedsteads.  One  of  the  Brethren  escaped  by 
jumping  out  of  a  back  window,  and  another  who  was 
ill  in  bed  did  the  same  though  a  guard  stood  before  his 
door.  The  savages  now  pursued  those  who  had  taken 
refuge  in  the  garret,  and  strove  hard  to  break  in  the 
door,  but  finding  it  too  well  secured,  they  set  fire  to 
the  house.     It  was  instantly  in  flames. 

At  this  time  a  boy  called  Sturgeons,  standing  upon 
the  flaming  roof,  ventured  to  leap  off,  and  thus  es- 
caped. A  ball  had  previously  grazed  his  cheek,  and 
one  side  of  his  head  was  much  burnt.  Mr.  Partsch 
likewise  leaped  from  the  roof  while  on  fire,  unhurt 
and  unobserved.  Fabricius  made  the  same  attempt, 
but  was  brought  down  by  two  balls,  seized  alive  and 
scalped.  All  the  rest,  eleven  in  number,  were  burned 
to  death.  Senseman,  who  first  went  out,  had  the  in- 
expressible grief  of  seeing  his  wife  j^erish  in  the 
flames. 

Mrs.  Partsch,  who  had  escaped,  could  not,  through 
fear  and  trembling,  go  far,  but  hid  herself  behind  a 
tree  upon  a  hill  near  the  house.  From  this  pliu'c  the 
gentle  sister  of  that  forlorn  band  gazed  trembling  and 
with  ghastly  features  upon  that  scene  of  fire  and  butch- 


376       WOMAN  AS  A  31ISSI0NARY  TO  TEE  INDIANS. 

ery.  She  saw  her  beloved  brethren  and  sisters  drag- 
ged forth  and  shot  or  tomahawked.  Before  the  breath 
had  left  their  bodies  she  saw  the  scalps  torn  from  their 
heads,  some  of  the  wounded  women  kneeling  and  im- 
ploring for  mercy  in  vain.  The  burning  house  was 
the  funeral  pyre  from  which  the  loving  spirit  of  Mrs. 
Senseman  took  its  flight  to  eternal  rest.  Gazing 
through  the  windows  which  the  fire  now  illumined 
with  a  lurid  glare,  she  saw  Mrs,  Senseman  surrounded 
by  flames  standing  with  arms  folded  and  exclaiming — 
"  'Tis  all  well,  dear  Saviour ! " 

One  of  the  closing  scenes  in  the  history  of  the  pro- 
tracted toils  and  sufferings  of  the  missionaries  of  Gna- 
denhutten,  is  of  thrilling  and  tragical  interest.  Nine- 
ty-six of  the  Indian  converts  having  been  treacher- 
ously lured  from  the  settlement,  and  taken  prisoners, 
by  hostile  Indians  and  white  renegades,  were  told  that 
they  must  prepare  for  death.  Then  was  displayed  a 
calmness  and  courage  worthy  of  the  early  Christian 
martyrs.  Kneeling  down  in  that  dreadful  hour,  those 
unfortunate  Indian  believers  prayed  fervently  to  the 
God  of  all ;  then  rising  they  suffered  themselves  to  be 
led  unresistingly  to  the  place  appointed  for  them  to 
die.  The  last  sounds  that  could  be  heard  before  the 
awful  butchery  was  finished  were  the  rrayers  and 
])raiscs  of  the  Indian  women,  of  whom  there  were 
forty,  thus  testifying  their  unfaltering  trust  in  the 
promise  taught  them  by  their  white  sisters — the  de- 
voted Moravians  of  Gnadenhutten. 


i;f 


CHAPTER   XYII. 


WOMAN  AS  A  MISSIONARY  TO  THE  INDIANS,— (Continued.) 

OF  all  that  devout  and  heroic  bands  of  men  and 
women  who  have  undertaken  to  bear  the  hard- 
ships and  face  the  dangers  of  our  American  wilderness, 
for  the  special  purpose  of  carrying  the  Gospel  of  peace, 
love,  and  brotherhood  to  the  benighted  denizen  of  our 
A.merican  forests,  none  have  exhibited  more  signal 
courage,  patience,  and  devotion  than  the  companies 
which  first  selected  Oregon  as  their  special  field  of 
labor. 

In  order  to  properly  estimate  the  appliances  and 
dangers  of  this  enterprise,  the  Oregon  field  must  be 
surveyed,  not  from  our  present  point  of  view,  when 
steam  locomotive  power  on  land  and  water  has  brought 
that  distant  region  within  comparatively  easy  reach  ; 
when  the  hands  of  the  State  and  National  Government 
have  grown  stiong  to  defend,  and  can  be  stretched  a 
tliousand  leagues  in  an  hour  to  punish,  if  the  lightning 
brings  tidings  of  wrong ;  when  a  multitude  of  well- 
ordered  coirmumities  have  power  and  lawful  authority 
to  protect  their  citizens ;  and  when  peaco  and  comfort 
ai*e  the  accompaniments,  and  a  competency  is  the  re- 
ward of  industry. 

How  di  fie  rent  was  the  view  of  Oregon  presented  to 
the  eye  in  1834 !  A  vast  tract  of  wilderness,  cover- 
ing an  area  of  more  than  three  hundred  thousand 
square   miles,  composed  of  sterile  wastes,  imbrokcn 

(377) 


VI 


378       WOMAN  AS  A  MISSIONARY  TO  THE  INDIANS. 

forests,  and  almost  impassable  ranges  of  mountains, 
presenting  a  constant  succession  of  awful  precipices, 
rugged  crags,  and  yawning  chasms,  and  traversed  by 
rapid  torrents,  emptying  into  rivers  full  of  perils  to 
the  navigator.  This  mighty  expanse  was  roamed  by 
more  than  thirty  different  Indian  tribes;  the  only 
white  inhabitants  being  at  the  few  posts  and  settle- 
ments of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company.  The  different 
routes  by  which  this  region  could  be  reached  presented 
to  the  traveler  a  dilemma,  either  side  of  which  was 
full  of  difficulty. 

The  water  route  was  nearly  twenty  thousand  miles 
in  length,  and  involved  a  long  and  perilous  voyage 
round  Cape  Horn.  The  land  route  was  across  the 
continent,  through  the  gorges  and  over  the  precipices 
of  the  Eocky  Mountains,  up  and  down  the  dangerous 
rivers,  and  among  numerous  bloodthirsty  tribes.  Such 
was  the  opening  prospect  offered  to  the  eye  of  relig- 
ious enterprise,  when  the  question  of  the  mission  to 
Oregon  was  first  agitated. 

It  is  something  more  than  forty  years  since  the 
"  Macedonian  Cry  "  was  heard  from  the  dark  moun- 
tains and  savage  plains  of  that  far  country,  startling 
the  Christian  church  in  America.  The  thrill  of  tbe 
appeal  made  by  the  delegation  of  Flathead  Indians, 
was  electric,  and  fired  the  churches  of  all  the  princi- 
pal denominations  with  a  spirit  of  noble  emulation. 

Dr.  Marcus  Whitman,  and  Mrs.  Whitman,  his  wife, 
and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Spaulding,  were  among  the  earliest 
to  respond  to  the  appeal.  In  1836  they  crossed  tlio 
continent,  scaled  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  penetrated 
to  the  heart  of  the  wild  rey-ion  which  was  to  be  tho 


n 


FALLI2^G  DOWN  A  CREVASSE. 


370 


scene  of  their  heroic  labors,  crowned  at  length  by  a 
martyr's  death. 

Mrs.  Whitman  and  Mrs.  Spaulding,  it  should  be  re- 
membered, were  the  first  white  women  that  ever 
crossed  that  mighty  range  which  nature  seems  to  have 
intended  as  a  barrier  against  the  aggressive  westward 
march  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race. 

Strong  indeed  must  have  been  the  impelling  motive 
which  carried  these  two  weak  women  over  that  rug- 
ged barrier ! 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gray,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clark,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Littlejohn,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Smith,  and  the  Lees 
came  next,  pursuing  their  toilsome  march  over  the 
same  mountain  ranges,  and  closely  behind  them  came 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Griffin  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Munger. 

The  story  of  the  adventures  and  difficulties  passed 
through  by  these  missionary  bands  in  forcing  their  way 
over  the  mountains,  would  fill  volumes.  Their  way 
lay  sometimes  over  almost  inaccessible  crags,  and  at 
others,  through  gloomy  and  tangled  forests,  and  as 
they  descended,  the  snow  increased  in  depth,  and  they 
felt  the  effects  of  the  increasing  cold  very  keenly. 
The  only  living  things  which  they  saw  were  a  few 
mountain  goats.  Sometimes  chasms  yawned  at  their 
feet,  and  they  were  forced  to  go  out  of  their  course 
twenty  miles  before  they  could  cross.  Once  one  of 
the  ladies  wandered  from  the  party  in  search  of  moun- 
tain ferns.  She  was  soon  missed,  and  one  of  the 
guides  was  sent  back  to  search  for  her.  After  a 
short  quest  they  found  her  tracks  in  the  snow,  which 
they  fc' lowed  till  they  came  to  a  crevasse,  through 
which  she  had  slipped  and  fallen  sixty  feet  into  a 


380       WOMAN  AS  A  MISSIONARY  TO  THE  INDIANS. 


monstrous  drift,  where  she  was  floundering  and  shout- 
ing feebly  for  help. 

With  some  difficulty  she  was  extricated  unhurt  from 
this  perilous  situation. 

When  their  day's  journey  was  ended,  they  had  also 
to  encamp  on  the  snow,  beating  down  the  selected 
spot  previously,  till  it  would  bear  a  man  on  the  surface 
without  sinking.  The  fire  was  kindled  on  logs  of 
green  timber,  and  the  beds  were  made  of  pine-branches. 
All  alike  laid  on  the  snow. 

One  of  the  peculiar  dangers  to  which  they  were 
exposed,  were  the  mountain  torrents,  which  in  that 
region  were  impassable  often  for  the  stoutest  swim- 
mer; and  this  danger  became  magnified  when  they 
reached  the  upper  Columbia  River,  which  they  were 
obliged  to  navigate  in  boats.  At  one  particular  spot 
in  the  course  of  their  voyage  they  narrowly  escaped 
a  serious  disaster. 

The  Columbia  is,  at  the  spot  alluded  to,  contracted 
into  a  passage  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards,  by  lofty 
rocks  on  either  side,  through  which  it  rushes  with  tre- 
mendous violence,  forming  whirlpools  in  its  passage 
capable  of  engulphing  the  largest  forest  trees,  which 
are  afterwards  disgorged  witii  great  force.  This  is 
one  of  the  most  dangerous  places  that  boats  have  to 
pass.  In  going  up  the  river  the  boats  are  all  emptied, 
and  the  freight  has  to  be  carried  about  half  a  mile 
over  the  tops  of  tlie  high  .and  rugged  rocks.  In  com- 
ing down,  all  remain  in  the  boats;  and  the  guides,  in 
this  perilous  pass,  display  the  greatest  courage  and 
p'^c^^ence  of  mind,  at  moments  when  the  slightest  error 
in  managing  their  frail  bark  would  hurl  its  occupants 
to  certain  destruction.     On  arriving  at  the  head  of 


IN  TEE  RAPIDS. 


381 


the  rapids,  the  guide  gets  out  on  the  rocks  and  sur- 
veys the  whirlpools.  If  they  are  filtering  in — or 
"  making,"  as  they  term  it — the  men  rest  on  their 
paddles  until  they  commence  throwing  off,  when  the 
guides  instantly  reembark,  and  shove  off  the  boat  and 
shoot  through  this  dread  portal  with  the  speed  of 
lip^htninof. 

Sometimes  the  boats  are  whirled  round  in  the  vor- 
tex with  suoh  awful  rapidity  that  renders  all  manage- 
ment of  the  vessel  impossible,  and  the  boat  and  its 
hapless  crew  are  swallowed  up  in  the  abyss.  One  of 
the  party  had  got  out  of  the  boat,  preparing  to  walk, 
when  looking  back  he  saw  one  of  the  other  boats  con- 
taining two  of  the  ladies,  in  a  dangerous  situation, 
having  struck,  in  the  midst  of  the  rapids,  upon  the 
rocks,  which  had  stove  in  her  side. 

The  conduct  of  the  men  in  this  instance,  evinced 
great  presence  of  mind.  The  instant  the  boat  struck 
they  had  sprung  on  the  gunwale  next  the  rock,  and 
by  their  united  weight  kept  her  lying  upon  it.  The 
water  foamed  and  raged  round  them  with  fearful  vio- 
lence. Had  she  slipped  off,  they  must  all  have  been 
dashed  to  pieces  amongst  the  rocks  and  rapids  below ; 
as  it  was,  they  managed  to  maintain  their  position  un- 
til the  crew  of  the  other  boat,  which  had  run  the  rap- 
ids safely,  had  unloaded  and  dragged  the  empty  boat 
up  the  rapids  again.  They  then  succeeded  in  throw- 
ing a  line  to  their  hapless  companions.  But  there  was 
still  great  danger  to  be  encountered,  lest  in  hauling 
the  empty  boat  towards  them  they  might  pull  them- 
selves off  the  rock.  They,  at  length,  however,  suc- 
ceeded by  cautious  management  in  getting  the  boat 
alongside,  and  in  embarking  in  safety.     A  moment 


382       WOMAN  AS  A  SlISSIOXARY  TO  THE  INDIANS. 

afterwards  their  own  boat  slipped  from  the  rock,  and 
was  dashed  to  pieces.  Everything  that  floated  they 
picked  up  afterwards. 

The  same  noble  spirit  which  carried  Mrs.  Whitman, 
Mrs.  Spaulding,  Mrs.  Gray,  Mrs.  Littlejohn,  Mrs.  Clark, 
Mrs.  Smith,  Mrs.  Munger,  Mrs.  Griffin,  and  their  coad- 
jutors across  our  continent  on  their  lofty  errand,  also 
inspired  another  band  of  gospel  messengers  to  move 
in  the  same  great  enterprise. 

Dr.  White  of  New  York,  and  his  wife,  were  promi- 
nent in  this  latter  movement.  Their  immediate  com- 
pany consisted  of  thirteen  individuals,  five  of  whom 
were  women,  viz :  Mrs.  White,  Mrs.  Beers,  Miss  Down- 
ing, Miss  Johnson,  and  Miss  Pitman.  These  ladies 
were  all  admirably  fitted  both  physically  and  mentall^f 
for  the  enterprise  in  which  they  were  embarked. 

Mrs.  White  was  a  lady  in  whom  were  blended  quiet 
resolution,  a  high  sense  of  duty,  and  great  sensibility. 
When  her  husband  informed  her  one  cold  night,  in 
the  winter  of  1836,  that  there  was  a  call  for  them 
from  Oregon ;  that  the  Board  of  Missions  advertised 
for  a  clergyman,  physician,  &c.,  &c.,  and  as  he  could 
act  in  the  capacity  of  doctor,  he  thought  it  might  be 
well  to  respond  thereto.  She  did  not  immediately  an- 
swer ;  and  looking  up,  he  was  surprised  to  find  her 
weeping.  This  seemed  to  him  singular,  as  her  dispo- 
sition was  so  unusually  cheerful,  and  it  was  seldom 
there  was  a  trace  of  tears  to  be  found  upon  her  cheek, 
especially,  as  he  thought,  for  so  trivial  a  cause.  In 
some  confusion  and  mortification,  he  begged  her  not 
to  allow  his  words  to  cause  her  uneasiness.  Still  she 
wept  in  silence,  till,  after  a  pause  of  several  moments, 
she  struggled  for  composure,  seated  herself  by  his 


•*:'.> 


THE  SPIRIT  WILLING  BUT  THE  FLESH  WEAR. 


383 


side,  extended  her  hand  for  the  paper,  and  twice  look- 
ing over  the  notice,  remarked,  that  if  he  could  so  ar- 
range his  affairs  as  to  render  it  consistent  for  him  to 
go  to  Oregon,  she  would  place  no  obstacle  in  his  way, 
and  with  her  mother's  consent  would  willingly  accom- 
pany him. 

Dr.  White  offered  his  services  to  the  Board  of  Mis- 
sions, they  were  accepted,  and  he  was  requested  to  be 
in  readiness  to  sail  in  a  few  weeks,  from  Boston  via 
the  Sandwich  Islands,  to  Oregon.  Mrs.  White  still  re- 
tained her  determination  to  accompany  her  husband, 
though  till  she  saw  the  appointment  and  its  publica- 
tion, she  scarcely  realized  the  possibility  of  a  necessity 
for  her  doing  so.  The  thought  that  they  were  now  to 
leave,  probably  for  ever,  their  dear  home,  and  dearer 
friends,  was  a  sad  one,  and  she  shed  tears  of  regret 
though  not  of  reluctance  to  go.  She  pictured  to  her- 
self her  mother's  anguish,  at  what  must  be  very  like 
consigning  her  only  daughter  to  the  grave. 

The  anticipated  separation  from  that  mother,  who 
had  nursed  her  so  tenderly  and  loved  her  with  that 
tireless,  changeless  affection  which  the  maternal  heart 
only  knows,  filled  her  with  sorrow.  HoAvever,  by  a 
fortunate  coincidence  they  were  spared  the  painful 
scene  they  had  feared,  and  obtained  her  consent  with 
little  difficulty.  When  they  visited  her,  for  that  pur- 
pose, she  had  just  been  reading  for  the  first  time  the 
life  of  Mrs.  Judson ;  and  the  example  of  this  excel- 
lent lady  had  so  interested  her  that  when  the  project 
was  laid  before  her  she  listened  with  comparative  calm- 
ness, and,  though  somewhat  astonished,  was  willing 
they  should  go  where  duty  led  them.  This  in  some 
measure  relieved  Mrs.  White,  and  with  a  lightened 


\'\ 


384       WOMAN  AS  A  MISSIONARY  TO  THE  INDIANS. 

heart  and  more  composure  she  set  about  the  necessary 
preparations. 

In  a  short  time  all  was  in  readiness,  the  last  farewell 
wept,  rather  than  spoken,  the  last  yearning  look  lin- 
gered on  cherished  objects,  and  they  were  on  their 
way  to  Oregon. 

On  the  day  that  their  eldest  son  was  one  year  old, 
they  embarked  from  Boston. 

That  their  adieus  were  sorrowful  may  not  be  doubt- 
ed, indeed  this  or  any  other  word  in  our  language  ia 
inadequate  to  describe  the  emotions  of  the  party. 
As  the  pilot-boat  dropped  at  the  stem  of  the  vessel, 
its  occupants  waved  their  handkerchiefs  and  simulta- 
neously began  singing  a  farewell  "  Missionary  Hymn." 
The  effect  was  electric  j  some  rushed  to  the  side  in 
agony  as  though  they  would  recall  the  departed  ones 
and  return  with  them  to  their  native  land.  Oth- 
ers covered  their  faces,  and  tears  streamed  through 
their  trembling  fingers,  and  sobs  shook  the  frames  of 
even .  strong  men.  They  thought  not  of  formalities 
in  that  hour ;  it  was  not  a  shame  for  the  sterner  sex 
to  weep.  The  forms  of  their  friends  fast  lessened  in 
the  distance,  and  at  last  their  boat  looked  like  a  speck 
on  the  wave,  and  the  sweet  cadences  of  diat  beautiful 
song  faintly  rolling  along  to  their  hearing,  like  the 
sigh  of  an  angel,  were  the  last  souncl;^  that  reached 
them  from  the  home  of  civilization. 

With  hushed  respiration,  bowed  heads,  and  straining 
ears,  they  listened  to  its  low  breathings  now  wafted 
gently  and  soothingly  to  them  on  the  breeze,  then  dy- 
ing away,  and  finally  lost  in  the  whisperings  of  wind 
and  waves. 

For  weeks  did  it  haunt  their  slumbers  while  tossing 


ARRIVAL  AT  THE  FIELD  OF  LABOR. 


385 


fm 


upon  the  treacherous  deep.  And  it  came  not  alone ; 
for  with  it  were  fair  visions  of  parents,  home,  broth- 
ers, and  sisters,  joyous  childhood  and  youth,  and  every- 
thing they  had  known  at  home  floated  in  vivid  pic- 
tures before  them  touching  them  as  by  the  fairy  pen- 
cil of  the  dream-angel. 

The  voyage  was  a  protracted  one.  But  the  close 
relationship  into  which  they  were  brought  served  to 
knit  together  the  bonds  of  Christian  fellowship,  and 
inspire  them  with  a  oneness  of  purpose  in  carrying 
out  their  noble  enterprise.  Immediately  on  arriving 
at  their  field  of  labor  they  entered  on  their  first  work, 
VIZ :  that  of  establishing  communities.  In  that  almost 
unbroken  wilderness,  cabins  were  erected,  the  ground 
prepared  for  tillage,  and  steps  were  taken  towards  the 
building  of  a  saw  and  grist-mill.  The  Indians  were 
conciliated,  and  a  mission-school  for  their  instruction 
was  established.  The  party  received  constant  acces- 
sions to  their  numbers  as  the  months  rolled  away,  and 
opened  communication  with  the  other  mission-colonies 
in  the  territory. 

During  the  summer  the  ladies  divided  their  labors; 
the  school  of  Indians  was  taught  by  Miss  Johnson; 
Miss  Downing  (now  Mrs.  Shepherd)  attended  to  the 
cutting,  making,  and  repairing  of  the  clothing  for  the 
young  Indians,  as  well  as  those  for  the  children  of  the 
missionaries ;  Mrs.  White  and  Miss  Pitman  (now  Mrs. 
Jason  Lee)  superintended  the  domestic  matters  of  the 
little  colony. 

In  September,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Leslie,  three  daughters, 
and  Mr.  Perkins  the  JiancS  of  Miss  Johnson,  joined 
them.     The  family  was  now  enlarged  to  sixty  mem- 
bers.    Dr.  and  Mrs.  White  removed  into  their  new 
25 


mm 


38g       W031AN  AS  A  MISSIONARY  TO  THE  INDIANS. 

cabin — a  mile  distant.  Here  ensued  a  repetition  of 
trials;  privations,  and  hardships,  such  as  they  had 
already  endured  in  their  former  habitation. 

Their  cabin  was  a  rude  affair,  scarcely  more  than  a 
shanty,  without  a  chimney,  and  with  only  roof  enough 
to  cover  a  bed ;  a  few  loose  boards  served  for  a  floor ; 
one  side  of  the  house  was  entirely  unenclosed,  and  all 
their  cooking  had  to  be  done  in  the  open  air,  in  the 
few  utensils  which  they  had  at  hand. 

One  by  one  these  deficiencies,  with  much  toil  and 
difficulty,  were  supplied;  a  tolerably  close  roof  and 
walls  shielded  them  measurably  from  the  autumn  tem- 
pests ;  a  new  chimney  carried  up  about  half  the  smoke 
generated  from  the  green  fuel  wit,h  which  the  fireplace 
was  filled ;  the  hearth,  made  of  clay  and  wood-ashes, 
was,  however,  a  standing  eyesore  to  Mrs.  White,  who 
appears  to  have  been  a  notable  housewife,  as  it  did 
not  admit  of  washing,  and  had  to  be  renewed  every 
two  or  three  months. 

These  were  discomforts  indeed,  but  nothing  com- 
pared with  another  annoyance  to  which  they  were 
nightly  subject — that  part  of  the  territory  where  they 
lived  being  infested  by  black  wolves  of  the  fiercest 
species.  Their  situation  was  so  lonely,  and  Doctor 
White's  absences  were  so  frequent,  that  Mrs.  White 
was  greatly  terrified  every  night  by  the  frightful  bowl- 
ings of  these  ferocious  marauders. 

One  night  Doctor  White  left  home  to  visit  Mr. 
Shepherd,  who  was  ill,  and  some  of  the  sick  mission 
children.  Mrs.  White,  while  awaiting  his  return,  sud- 
denly heard  a  burst  of  prolonged  howling  from  the 
depths  of  the  forest  through  which  the  Doctor  would 
have  to  pass  on  liis  return  homeward.    The  howls 


• 


^" 


l\ 


'I 


I' 


I  * 


i  'I', 


t\ 


I 


■i  ■ 


'  • 


BESIEGED  BY  WOLVES. 


387 


en 

Ui 

> 

c 
is 

c 

tu 

a 


were  continued  with  all  the  eagerness  which  showed 
that  the  brutes  were  close  upon  their  prey.  She  flew 
to  the  yard,  and  in  the  greatest  terror,  besought  the 
two  hired  men  to  fly  to  her  husband's  rescue. 

They  laughed  at  her  fears,  and  endeavored  to  reason 
her  into  composure.  But  the  horrid  din  continued. 
Through  the  wild  chorus  she  fancied  she  heard  a 
human  voice  faintly  calling  for  help.  Unable  longer  to 
restrain  her  excited  feelings,  she  snatched  up  a  long 
j^ir  of  cooper's  compasstc — the  first  weapon  that 
offered  itself — and  sallied  out  into  the  woods,  accom- 
panied by  the  men,  armed  with  rifles. 

They  ran  svvif  tly,  the  diapason  of  the  howls  guiding 
them  in  the  proper  course,  and  in  a  few  moments  they 
came  to  a  large  tree,  round  which  a  pack  of  hungry 
monsters  had  collected,  and  were  baying  in  full  chorus, 
jumping  up  and  snapping  their  jaws  at  a  man  who  was 
seated  among  the  branches. 

The  cowardly  brutes,  catching  sight  of  the  party, 
sneaked  off  with  howls  of  baffled  rage,  and  were  soon 
beyond  hearing.  The  doctor  descended  from  his  re- 
treat, quite  panic-stricken  at  his  narrow  escape.  He 
roionned  them  that  on  first  starting  from  the  mission, 
li>^  ill)  picked  up  a  club,  to  defend  himself  from  the 
\\c  \  ~"3,  (should  they  make  their  appearance;  but  when 
one  o.[  me  animals  came  within  six  feet  of  l»im,  and  by 
its  call,  gathered  others  to  the  pursuit,  his  valiant 
resolutions  vanished — he  dropped  his  stick  and  plied 
his  heels,  with  admirable  dexterity,  tiii  ilie  tree  offered 
its  friendly  aid,  when  hcUiallooed  for  help  with  all  the 
power  of  his  lungs;  but  for  Mrs.  White's  appreciation 
'  £  the  danger,  and  her  speedy  appearance  upon  the 


rV* 


388      WOMAS  AS  A  MISSIONARY  TO  THE  INDIANS. 

scene,  Dr.  White's  term  of  usefulness  in  the  Oregon 
mission  would  have  been  greatly  abridged. 

The  necessities  of  their  missionary  life  compelled 
different  members  of  their  little  band  to  make  frequent 
journeys  both  by  land  and  .water.  It  was  on  one  of 
these  journeys,  and  while  passing  down  the  Columbia 
River  in  a  canoe,  that  Mrs.  White* met  with  an  acci- 
dent that  plunged  the  whole  mission  into  mourning. 

Mrs.  White,  with  her  babe,  and  Mr.  Leslie,  had 
embarked  in  a  canoe  o;  ^  .^  river  where  the  current 
was  extremely  rapid,  and  -  iey  reached  the  middle 
of  the  stream,  the  canoe  began  to  quiver  and  sway 
from  side  to  side.  The  sense  of  her  danger  cama 
upon  Mrs.  W.,  as  with  a  presentiment  of  coming  disas- 
ter. She  trembled  like  a  leaf  as  she  remarked,  "  How 
very  Iielpless  is  a  female  with  an  infant."  At  the 
instant  that  her  voice  ceased  to  echo  from  the  rocky 
shores,  and  as  if  a  spirit  of  evil  stood  ready  to  prove 
the  truth  of  her  exclamation,  the  canoe,  which  wa.< 
heavily  laden,  gave  a  slight  swing,  and  striking  a  rock, 
bega,n  to  fill  with  water,  and,  in  a  few  seconds,  went 
down.  As  the  water  came  up  round  them,  the  child 
started  convulsively  in  its  mother's  arms  and  gave  a 
piercing  shriek,  Mr.  Leslie  at  the  same  time  exclaim- 
ing, "  Oh,  God !  we're  lost !  " 

When  the  canoe  rose,  it  was  free  from  its  burthen, 
and  bottom  upwards;  and  Mrs.  White  found  herself 
directly  beneath  it,  painfully  endeavoring  to  extricate 
herself,  enduring  dreadful  agony  in  her  struggle  for 
breath. 

Despairingly  she  felt  herself  again  sinking,  and, 
coming  in  contact  with  the  limbs  of  a  person  in  the 
water,  the  i:k}flection  flitted  across  her  brain,  "  1  have 


' 


A  MOTHER'S  LOSS. 


389 


done  with  my  labors  for  these  poor  Indians.  Well,  all 
will  be  over  in  a  moment;  but  how  will  my  poor 
mother  feel  when  she  learns  my  awful  fate  ?  "  Mr.  Les- 
lie afterwards  stated  that  he  had  no  recollection  till  he 
rose,  and  strove  to  keep  above  water,  but  again  sank, 
utterly  hopeless  of  succor. 

He  rose  again  just  as  the  canoe  passed  around  a 
large  rock,  and  its  prow  was  thrown  within  his  reach. 
He  clutched  it  with  eager  joy,  and  supported  himself 
a  moment,  gasping  for  breath,  when  he  suddenly 
thought  of  his  fellow-passenger,  and  the  exclamation 
ran  through  his  mind, — "  What  will  the  doctor  do  ?  " 
He  instantly  lowered  himself  in  the  water  as  far  as 
possible,  and,  still  clinging  with  one  hand,  groped 
about  as  well  as  he  was  able,  when,  providentially,  he 
grasped  her  dress,  and  succeeded  in  raising  her  to  the 
surface.  By  this  time  the  Indians — expert  swimmers 
— had  reached  the  canoe ;  and,  with  their  assistance, 
he  supported  his  insensible  burden,  and  placed  her 
head  upon  the  bottom  with  her  face  just  out  of 
water.  After  a  few  moments,  she  gasped  feebly,  and, 
opening  her  eyes,  her  first  words  were,  "Oh,  Mr. 
Leslie,  I've  lost  my  child !  " 

"  Pray,  do  dismiss  the  thought,"  said  he,  "  and  let 
us  try  to  save  ourselves." 

They  were  wafted  a  long  way  down  the  river,  no 
prospect  offering  for  their  relief.  At  length  they 
espied,  far  ahead,  the  two  canoes  which  had  entered 
the  river  before  them,  occupied,  as  it  proved,  by  an 
Indian  chief  and  his  attendants.  Mr.  Leslie  hallooed 
to  thorn  with  all  his  remaining  strength,  and  they 
hastened  towards  them,  lirst  stopping  to. pick  up  the 


r 


390       WOMAN  AS  A  3nSSrOyARY  TO  THE  INDIANS. 

trunks  and  a  few  other  things  which  had  floated  down 
stream. 

When,  at  last,  they  reached  the  sufferers,  finding 
them  so  much  exhausted,  the  chief  cautioned  them  to 
retain  their  hold,  without  in  the  least  changing  their 
position,  while  he  towed  them  gently  and  carefully  to 
the  shore.  Here  they  rested,  draining  the  water  from 
their  clothes,  and  Mr.  Leslie  from  his  head  and 
stomach, — for  he  had  swallowed  a  vast  quantity.  In 
half  an  hour  the  Indians  righted  the  canoe,  which  had 
been  drawn  on  shore,  and,  to  their  amazement,  and 
almost  terror,  they  found  beneath  it  the  dead  babe, 
wrapped  in  its  cloak,  having  been  kept  in  its  place  by 
the  atmospheric  pressure. 

Mr.  Leslie  was  now  uncertain  what  course  to  pursue, 
and  asked  his  companion's  advice.  She  told  them  she 
was  desirous  of  proceeding  immediately  to  Fort  Van- 
couver, as  they  had  nothing  to  eat,  no  fire,  and,  in 
short,  had  lost  so  many  of  their  effects,  that  they  had 
nothing  wherewith  to  make  .Iiemselves  comfortable,  if 
they  remained  there  till  even  the  next  day. 

Their  canoe  was  a  large  one,  being  about  twenty 
feet  in  length  and  four  in  breadth,  and  was  laden  with 
a  bed,  bedding,  mats,  two  large  trunks  of  i^.jthing, 
kettles,  and  dishes,  and  provisions  to  last  the  crew 
throughout  the  journey,  and  also  articles  of  traffic 
with  the  natives,  and  they  lost  all  but  their  trunks, 
the  contents  of  which  were  now  thoroughly  soaked. 

They  seated  themselves  in  the  canoe,  and  the  chief 

thrcAV  his  only  blanket  over  Mrs.  W 's  shoulders, 

both  himself  and  men  exerting  themselves  to  render 
their  charges  comfortable  during  the  thirty-six  miles 


■r 


'I 


., 


A  MELANCHOLY  JOURNEY. 


391 


they  were  obliged  to  travel  before  reaching  the  fort, 
which  was  late  in  the  evening. 

They  were  met  by  Mr.  Douglas,  who  was  greatly 
shocked  at  the  narrative,  and  whose  first  words  were, 
"  My  God !  what  a  miracle !  Why,  it  is  only  a  short 
time  since,  in  the  same  place,  we  lost  a  canoe,  with 
seven  men,  all  good  swimmers." 

The  folio 'ing  morning,  the  bereaved  mother  was 
quite  composed.  They  started  at  eight  o'clock,  and 
with  the  little  coffin,  provided  by  Mr.  Douglas,  at 
their  feet,  traveled  rapidly  all  day,  and  camped  at 
night  just  above  the  falls  of  the  Willamette.  They 
took  supper,  the  men  pitched  their  borrowed  tents, 
and,  after  a  day  of  great  fatigue,  they  lay  quietly 
down  to  rest. 

In  a  short  time,  however,  they  were  disturbed  by  a 
loud  paddling,  and  voices;  and  looking  out,  beheld 
about  thirty  Indians,  men,  women,  and  children,  in 
canoes,  who  landed  and  camped  very  near  them. 

Their  arrival  filled  Mrs.  White  with  new  apprehen- 
sion. She  feared  now  that  she  might  be  robbed  of 
her  dead  treasure,  and  perhaps  lose  her  own  life, 
before  she  could  consign  it  to  its  last  resting-place. 
All  through  that  restless,  dreary  night,  she  kept  her 
vigils,  with  bursting  heart,  beside  the  corpse  of  her 
babe.  The  noises  of  the  Indian  camp,  the  guttural 
voices  of  the  men,  the  chattering  of  the  squaws,  rang 
in  her  ears,  while  the  cries  and  prattling  of  the  chil- 
dren, by  reminding  her  of  the  lost  one,  served  to 
enhance  the  poignancy  of  her  grief  What  a  situa- 
tion  for  the  desolate  mother !  All  alone  with  death, 
far  from  her  mother,  husband,  home,  and  friends, 
surrounded  by  a  troop  of  barbarous,  noisy  savages 


392       WOMAN  AS  A  MISSIONARY  TO  THE  INDIANS. 


weighed  down  with  grief,  tearless  from  its  very  weight, 
not  knowing  what  next  would  befall  her.  What 
agony  did  she  endure  through  that  night's  dreary 
vigils !  She  felt  as  though  she  were  draining  the  cup 
of  sorrow  to  its  dregs,  without  the  strength  to  pray 
that  it  might  pass  from  her. 

They  set  off  as  soon  as  it  was  light,  that  they  might, 
if  possible,  reach  the  Mission  before  putrescency  had 
discolored  the  body  of  the  infant.  They  arrived  at 
McKoy's  about  one  o'clock,  where,  while  they  were 
dining,  horses  were  prepared,  and  they  went  on  with- 
out delay.  It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  emotions 
of  the  doctor  when  he  met  them  about  twelve  miles 
from  the  Mission,  as,  excepting  a  floating  rumor  among 
the  natives,  which  he  hardly  credited,  he  had  had  no 
intimation  of  the  accident.  The  sad  pres».ntiment 
was  realized.  Death  had  entered  their  circle  and 
robbed  them  of  their  fair  child  !  As  he  looked  into 
the  face  of  his  wife,  he  comprehended  in  part  her 
sufferings. 

Amid  these  and  similar  sad  experiences,  this  heroic 
band  of  Christian  women  abated  not  their  zeal  or 
efforts  in  the  work  to  which  they  had  put  their  hand. 

In  other  parts  of  the  territory,  separate  missionary 
establishments  were  superintended  by  the  Whitmans, 
the  Spauldings,  and  others.  The  blessings  of  civiliza- 
tion and  religion  were  thus  extended  by  these  devoted 
men  and  wo  nen  to  the  benighted  red  man. 

For  a  period  of  eight  years  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Whitman 
resided  on  the  banks  of  the  Walla- Walla  River,  doing 
all  in  their  power  to  benefit  the  Indians.     Such  labors^ 
as  theirs  deserved  a  peaceful  old  age,  and  the  endur- 
ing gratitude  of  their  tawny  prot^g^s.     Alas!  that 


A  MURDEROUS  SUSPICION. 


393 


we  have  to  record  that  such  was  not  their  lot !  Melan- 
choly indeed  was  the  fate  of  that  devoted  band  upon 
the  Walla- Walla! 

The  measels  had  broken  out  among  the  Indians  and 
spread  with  frightful  rapidity  through  the  neighboring 
tribes.  Dr.  Whitman  did  all  he  could  to  stay  its  pro- 
gress, but  great  numbers  of  them  died. 

The  Indians  supposed  that  the  doctor  could  have 
stayed  the  course  of  the  malady  if  he  had  wished  it, 
and  accordingly  concocted  a  plan  to  destroy  him  and 
his  whole  family.  With  this  object  in  view  about  sixty 
of  them  armed  themselves  and  :  tme  to  his  house. 

The  inmates,  having  no  suspicion  of  any  hostile  in- 
tentions, were  totally  unprepared  for  resistance  or 
flight.  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Whitman  and  their  nephew — a 
youth  of  about  seventeen  or  eighteen  years  of  age — 
were  sitting  in  the  parlor  in  the  afternoon,  when  Sil- 
aw-kite,  the  chief,  and  To-ma-kus,  entered  the  room 
and  addressing  the  doctor  told  him  very  coolly  they 
had  come  to  kill  him.  The  doctor,  not  believing  it 
possible  that  they  could  entertain  any  hostile  inten- 
tions towards  him,  told  him  as  much ;  but  whilst  in  the 
act  of  speaking,  To-ma-kus  drew  a  tomahawk  from 
under  his  robe  and  buried  it  deep  in  his  brain.  The 
unfortunate  man  fell  dead  in  his  chair.  Mrs.  Whitman 
and  the  nephew  fled  up  stairs  and  locked  themselves 
into  an  upper  room. 

In  the  meantime  Sil-aw-kite  gave  the  war-whoop,  as 
a  signal  to  his  party  outside,  to  proceed  in  the  work  of 
destruction,  which  they  did  with  the  ferocity  and  yells 
,.  of  so  many  fiends.  Mrs.  Whitman,  hearing  the  shrieks 
and  groans  of  the  dying,  looked  out  of  the  window 
and  was  shot  through  the  breast  by  a  son  of  the  chief, 


J'- 


394       WO.VAN  AS  A  MISSIONARY  TO  THE  INDIAXS. 

but  not  mortally  wounded.  A  party  then  rushed  up 
stairs  and  dispatched  the  niece  on  the  spot,  dragged 
her  down  by  the  hair  of  her  head  and  taking  her  to 
the  front  of  the  house,  mutilated  her  in  a  shocking 
manner  with  their  knives  and  tomahawks. 

There  was  one  man  who  had  a  wife  bedridden.  On 
the  commencement  of  the  affray  he  ran  to  her  room, 
and,  taking  her  up  in  his  arms,  carried  her  unpcrceived 
by  the  Indians  to  the  thick  bushes  that  skirted  the 
river,  and  hurried  on  with  his  burden  in  the  direction 
of  Fort  Walla- Walla.  Having  reached  a  distarce  of 
fifteen  miles,  he  became  so  exhausted  that,  unable  to 
carry  her  further,  he  concealed  her  in  a  thick  clump 
of  bushes  on  the  margin  of  the  river,  and  hastened  to 
the  Fort  for  assistance. 

On  his  arrival,  Mr.  McBain  immediately  sent  out 
men  with  him,  and  brought  her  in.  She  had  fortu- 
nately suffered  nothing  more  than  fright.  The  num- 
ber killed,  (including  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Whitman,)  amounted 
to  fourteen.  The  other  females  and  children  were 
carried  off  by  the  Indians,  and  two  of  them  were 
forthwith  taken  as  wives  by  Sil-aw-kite's  son  and  an- 
other. A  man  employed  in  the  little  mill,  forming  a 
part  of  the  establishment,  was  spared  to  work  the 
mill  for  the  Indians.  The  day  following  the  awful 
tragedy,  a  Catholic  priest,  who  had  not  heard  of  the 
massacre,  stopped  on  seeing  the  mangled  corpses 
strewn  round  the  house,  and  requested  permission  to 
bury  them,  which  was  readily  granted. 

On  the  priest  leaving  the  place,  he  met,  at  a  distance 
of  five  or  six  miles,  a  brother  missionary  of  the  de- 
ceased, Mr.  Spaulding,  the  field  of  whose  labors  lay 
about  a  hundred  miles  off,  at  a  place  on  the  river  Cold- 


A  FORLORN  SITUATION. 


395 


1 


water.  He  communicated  to  him  the  melancholy  fate 
of  his  friends,  and  advised  him  to  fly  as  fast  as  possi- 
ble, or,  in  all  probability,  he  wotild  be  another  victim. 
He  gave  him  a  share  of  his  provisions,  and  Mr.  Spauld- 
ing  hurried  homeward,  full  of  apprehensions  for  the 
safety  of  his  own  family  ;  but,  unfortunately,  his  horse 
escaped  from  him  in  the  night,  and  after  a  six  days' 
toilsome  march  on  foot,  having  lost  his  way,  he  at 
length  reached  the  banks  of  the  river,  but  on  the  op- 
posite side  to  his  own  home. 

In  the  dead  of  the  night,  in  a  state  of  starvation, 
having  eaten  nothing  for  three  days,  everything  seem- 
ing to  be  quiet  about  his  own  place,  he  cautiously  em- 
barked in  a  small  canoe,  and  paddled  across  the  river. 
But  he  had  no  sooner  landed  than  an  Indian  seized 
him,  and  dragged  him  to  his  own  house,  where  he 
found  all  his  family  prisoners,  and  the  Indians  in  full 
possession.  These  Indians  were  not  of  the  same  tribe 
"with  those  who  had  destroyed  Dr.  Whitman's  family, 
nor  had  they  at  all  participated  in  the  outrage ;  but 
having  heard  of  it,  and  fearing  the  white  man  would  in- 
clude them  in  their  vengeance,  they  had  seized  on  the 
family  of  Mr.  Spaulding  for  the  purpose  of  holding 
them  as  hostages  for  their  own  safety.  The  family 
were  uninjured;  and  he  was  overjoyed  to  find  things 
no  worse. 

Notwithstanding  this  awful  tragedy  the  heroic  wo- 
men remained  at  their  posts  in  the  different  mission- 
ary stations  in  the  territory,  and  long  afterwards  pur- 
sued those  useful  labors  which,  by  establishing  pioneer- 
settlements  in  the  wilderness,  and  by  civilizing  and 
christianizing  the  wild  tribes,  prepared*  the  way  for  the 
army  of  emigrants  which  is  now  converting  that  vast 
wilderness  into  a  great  and  flourishing  state. 


OHAPTEE  XYIII. 


WOMAN  IN  THE  ARMT. 


IN  the  great  wars  of  American  history,  there  are,  in 
immediate  connection  with  the  army,  two  situa- 
tions in  which  woman  more  prominently  appears :  the 
former  is  where,  in  her  proper  person,  she  accompanies 
the  army  as  a  vivandiere,  or  as  the  daughter  of  the 
regiment,  or  as  the  comrade  and  help-meet  of  her 
husband ;  the  latter,  and  less  frequent  capacity,  is  that 
of  a  soldier,  marching  in  the  ranks  and  facing  the  foe 
in  the  hour  of  danger.  During  the  war  for  Independ- 
ence a  large  number  of  brave  and  devoted  women 
served  in  the  army,  principally  in  their  true  characters 
as  wives  of  regularly  enlisted  soldiers,  keeping  even 
step  with  the  ranks  upon  the  march,  and  cheerfully 
sharing  the  burdens,  privations,  hardships,  and  dangers 
of  military  life. 

In  some  cases  where  both  wife  and  husband  took 
part  in  the  struggle  for  independence,  the  wife  even 
surpassed  her  husband  in  those  heroic  virtues  which 
masculine  vanity  arrogates  as  its  exclusive  possession. 
The  name  of  Mrs.  Jemima  Warner  has  been  embalmed 
in  history  as  one  of  those  remarkable  women  in  whom 
was  seen  at  once  the  true  wife,  the  heroine,  and  the 
patriot. 

She  appears  to  have  been  a  native  of  Lancaster, 
Pennsylvania,  and  became  the  wife  of  James  Warner, 

(396) 


SEVERITY  OF  TBE  CANADIAN  CAMPAIGN. 


397 


a  private  in  Captain  Smith's  company,  of  Daniel  Mor- 
gan's rifle  corps. 

In  1775  she  followed  her  husband  to  the  north,  and 
joined  him  at  Prospect  Hill,  Cambridge,  in  the  fall  of 
that  year.  Morgan's  riflemen  were  picked  men,  and 
were  sure  to  be  placed  in  the  posts  where  the  greatest 
danger  threatened. 

But  James  "Warner,  though  a  stalwart  man  in 
appearance,  possessed  none  of  the  qualities  demanded 
in  extraordinary  emergencies.  If  ever. man  needed, 
in  hardship  and  danger,  a  constant  companion,  supe- 
rior to  himself,  it  was  private  James  Warner,  and  such 
a  companion  was  his  jvife  Jemima.  She  is  described 
as  gifted  with  the  form  and  personal  characteristics  of 
a  true  heroine,  and  the  heroic  qualities  which  she  dis- 
played through  all  the  romantic  and  tragic  campaign 
against  Canada  proves  that  her  spirit  corresponded  to 
the  frame  which  it  animated. 

The  Canadian  campaign  was  in  many  respects  the 
severest  and  most  trying  of  any  during  the  Revolu- 
tion. General  Arnold's  march  through  the  woods  of 
Maine  was  attended  with  delays,  misfortunes^  and 
losses  which  would  have  discouraged  any  but  the 
bravest,  and  most  determined  and  hardy.  The  strength 
and  fortitude  of  the  men  was  tried  to  the  utmost,  by 
wearisome  marches,  floods,  winter's  cold  and  famine, 
and  in  these  crises  private  Warner  was  one  of  those 
few  whose  soldiership  failed  to  stand  the  test. 

The  advanced  guard  of  the  army  of  the  wilderness 
was  composed  of  Morgan's  troops,  who,  with  incredi- 
ble labor  and  hardship,  ascended  the  Dead  river  and 
crossed  the  highlands  into  the  Canadian  frontier,  one 
hundred  and  twenty  miles  from  Quebec,  with  their 


tmrt 


I 


398 


WOMAN  IN  THE  ARMY. 


last  rations  in  their  knapsacks,  and  with  their  passage 
obstructed  by  a  vast  swamp "  overflowed  with  water 
from  two  to  three  feet  deep.  Smith's  and  Ilendrick's 
companies  reachcl  it  first,  and  halted  to  wait  for  strag- 
glers. Mrs.  Warner  came  up  with  another  woman, 
the  wife  of  Sergeant  Grier,  of  Hendri*  jk's  company — 
as  much  a  heroine  as  herself,  though  less  unfortunate 
in  her  experience.  The  soldiers  were  entering  the 
water,  breaking  the  ice  as  they  went  with  their  gun- 
stocks,  and  the  women  courageously  wading  after  them, 
when  some  one  shouted,  "  Where  is  Warner  ?  "  Je- 
mima, who  had  not  noticed  her  husband's  disappear- 
ance, started  back  in  search  of  him.  Warner  was  no 
more  enfeebled  in  body  than  many  of  the  other  men, 
but  his  fortitude  had  given  out.  Begging  his  comrades 
to  delay  their  march  for  a  while,  she  hurried  back  in 
search  of  her  husband,  but  an  hour  passed,  and  his 
company  marched  without  him.  Utterly  destitute  oi 
that  forethought  which  is  so  necessary  an  element  of 
endurance  and  resolution  in  extremity,  he  had  eaten 
all  his  lations,  which  should  have  lasted  him  two  days. 
Knowing  that  the  supplies  of  the  army  were  exhaust- 
ed, his  faint  heart  saw  no  hope  ahead,  i  Us  brave  wife 
had  had  a  sad  trial  with  him.  From  the  day  that  pro- 
visions had  began  to  be  scarce  he  had  been  the  sjime 
improvident  laggard.  Familiar  with  his  failings,  slie 
was  in  the  habit  of  hoarding  food,  the  price  of  her 
own  secret  fastings,  against  such  need  as  this.  She 
now  exerted  herself  to  tlio  utirost  to  rouse  him,  and 
induce  him  to  press  on  and  rejoin  liis  comrades.  It 
was  long  before  she  prevailed,  and  at  last,  when  they 
started,  the  army  h)  d  gone  on,  and  Warner  and  his 
heroic  wife  were  forced  to  make  their  way  through 


J. 


«*  • 


«> 


•c  « 


A  BRAVE  WIFE  AND  A  LAGGARD  HUSBAND.        399 

the  wilderness  aloi  She  realized  that  her  husband's 
safety  depended  entirely  upon  herself,  and  took  care 
of  him  as  she  would  have  taken  care  of  a  child. 
Refusing  to  entertain,  for  a  moment,  the  thought  of 
perishing  in  the  wilderness,  she  did  her  best  to  cheer 
her  husband  and  drive  such  thoughts  from  his  mind. 
It  was  a  thankless  task,  but  her  love  and  devotion 
were  equal  to  everything.  Endowed  with  a  strong  con- 
stitution, and  free  from  disease,  the  young  soldier  could 
have  survived  the  terrible  march  to  Canada,  had  he 
possessed  but  a  li'^tle  of  her  courage  and  good  sense. 
Taking  the  lead  in  the  bitter  journey,  through  swamps 
and  snows,  threading  the  tangled  forests,  climbing 
cliffs,  and  fording  half -frozen  creeks, — day  after  day 
the  heroic  woman  pushed  her  faint-hearted  husband 
on,  feeding:  him  from  her  own  little  store  ot  ember- 
baked  cakes,  and  eating  almost  nothing  herself  till 
they  were  more  than  half  way  to  Sertigan  on  the 
Chaudiere  river,  toward  Quebec. 

Here  Warner  dropped  down,  completely  discouraged, 
and  resisted  all  his  wife's  entreaties  to  rise  again. 
It  was  in  vain  that  she  appealed  to  every  motive 
that  could  nerve  a  soldier,  every  sentiment  tliat  could 
inspire  and  stimulate  a  man.  Relief,  «he  said,  must 
be  before  them,  and  not  far  away ;  for  her  sake,  would 
he  not  try  once  more  ?  Her  pleadings  and  her  tears 
were  wasted.  The  faint-hearted  soldier  hau  made  his 
last  h^Jt.  Weak  he  undoubtedly  was,  bi!*  comparing 
the  nourishment  each  had  taken,  she  should  have  been 
physically  worse  off  than  he.  It  was  the  superiority 
of  her  mental  and  moral  organization  that  kept  her 
from  sinking  as  low  as  her  husband.  Failing  to  stir 
him  to  make  another  effort  to  save  himself,  she  filled 


fia 


mmmummmm 


400 


WOMAN  IN  THE  ARUr. 


his  canteen  with  water,  and  placing  that  and  the  little 
remnant  of  her  wretched  bread  between  his  knees,  she 
turned  away  and  went  down  the  river,  with  a  heavy 
but  dauntless  heart,  in  search  of  help.  On  her  way 
she  met  a  boat  coming  up  the  river,  and  in  it  were  two 
army  officers  and  two  friendly  Indians.  Hailing  the 
party,  she  told  them  of  her  distress  and  begged  them 
to  take  her  husband  on  board.  They  replied  that  it 
was  impossible.  They  had  been  sent  after  Lieutenant 
Macleland,  a  sick  officer  loft  behind  with  an  attendant, 
at  Twenty-foot  Falls,  and  the  little  birch  bark  canoe 
would  only  carry  two  more  men.  They  could  only 
spare  her  food  enough  to  keep  herself  alive.  "Weepings 
she  turned  back  and  sadly  followed  the  canoe  up  the 
stream  till  it  was  lost  to  view.  When  she  again 
reached  the  spot  where  she  had  left  her  discouraged 
husband,  she  found  him  alive  but  helpless,  and  sinking 
fast.  While  the  devoted  wife  sat  by  his  side,  doing 
what  little  she  could  for  his  comfort,  the  canoe  party 
came  down  the  river,  bearing  the  gallant  Macleland, 
their  loved  but  dying  officer.  Again  the  hapless  wife 
begged,  with  piteous  tears,  tliat  they  would  take  her 
husband  in.  No!  All  her  prayers  were  useless. 
Macleland  was  worth  more  than  Warner. 

When  all  hope  had  fled,  Jemima  staid  faithfully  by 
her  husband  till  he  had  breathed  his  last.  She  could 
only  close  his  eyes  and  try  to  cover  his  body  from  the 
wolves.  Then,  when  love  had  done  its  best,  she 
strapped  his  powder  horn  and  pouch  to  her  person, 
shouldered  his  rifle,  and  set  out  on  her  weary  tramp 
toward  Quebec.  Melancholy  as  it  was,  one  sees  a  cer- 
tain sublimity  in  the  woman's  act  of  selecting  and  car- 
rying with  her  those  warlike  keepsakes.    It  was  in  per- 


A  BRAVE  WIFE'S  MARCH. 


401 


rA» 


feet  keeping  with  those  tragic  times.  Tender  thought- 
fulness  of  her  poor  husband's  martial  honor  outlived 
her  power  to  inspire  him  again  to  her  heroism,  and 
made  her  grand  in  the  forlornness  of  her  sorrow.  She 
was  determined  that  his  arms  should  go  to  the  war,  if 
he  could  not. 

The  same  brave  mind  that  had  made  her  so  admira- 
ble as  a  soldier's  helpmeet,  upheld  her  through  tedious 
hardships  and  continued  perils  on  her  lonely  way  to 
the  settlement.  Once  there,  it  was  necessary  for  her 
to  wait  till  she  could  recover  her  exhausted  strength. 
Her  triumph  over  the  severe  tasking  of  all  those  bitter 
days  in  the  wildc  ncss,  without  chronic  injury,  or  even 
temporary  sickness,  would  be  called  now,  in  a  woman, 
a  miracle  of  endurance. 

As  she  passed  on  from  parish  to  parish,  the  simple 
Canadian  peasant,  always  friendly  to  the  American 
cause,  Avelcomed  with  warm  hospitality  the  handsome 
young  woman,  the  story  of  whose  singular  bravery 
and  devotion  had  reached  their  ears. 

Her  subsequent  life  ajid  history  is  shiouded  in  ob- 
scurity. We  know  not  whether  she  married  ;i  hus- 
band worthier  of  such  a  partner  in  those  trying  timos,, 
or  whether  she  retired  to  brood  alone  over  a  sorrow 
with  which  shame  for  the  object  of  her  grief  must 
have  mingled.  Whatever  her  lot  may  have  been,  her 
name  deserves  a  place  on  the  golden  roll  of  ou^  revo- 
lutionary heroines. 

As  we  have  already  remarked,  only  a  few  instances 
are  on  record  where  women  served  in  the  army  of 
the  revolution  as  enlisted  soldiers.  Occasional  services 
performed  under  the  guise  of  men,  were  more  frequent. 
As  bearers  of  dispatches  and  disguised  as  couriers, 
26 


Wt 


402 


WOMAN  IN  THE  ARMY. 


they  glided  through  the  enemy's  lines.  Donning  theii 
father  s  or  brother's  overcoats  and  hats,  they  deceived 
the  besiegers  of  the  garrison  into  the  belief  that  sol- 
diers were  not  lacking  to  defend  it,  and  even  ventured 
in  male  habiliments  to  perform  more  perilOi^s  feats; 
such,  for  example,  as  the  following : 

Grace  and  Rachel  Martin,  the  wives  of  two  brothers 
who  were  absent  with  the  patriot  army,  receiving  in- 
telligence one  evening  that  a  courier  under  guard  of 
two  British  officers,  would  pass  their  house  on  a  certain 
night  with  important  dispatches,  resolved  to  surprise 
the  party  and  obtain  the  papers. 

Disguising  themselves  in  their  husband's  outer  gar- 
ments, and  providing  themselves  with  arms,  they  way* 
laid  the  enemy.  Soon  after  they  took  their  station  by 
the  roadside,  the  courier  and  his  escort  made  tlieii 
appearance.  At  the  proper  moment  the  disguisejfl  la^ 
dies  sprang  from  their  bushy  ( o^'ert,  and  presenting 
their  pistols,  ordered  the  party  to  surrender  their  pa- 
pers. Surprised  and  alarmed,  they  obeyed  without 
hesitation  or  thw  least  resistance.  The  brave  women 
having  put  them  on  parole,  hastened  home  by  the 
nearest  route,  which  was  a  bypath  through  the  woods, 
and  dispatched  the  documents  to  General  Greene. 

Perhaps  the  most  remarkable  case  of  female  enlist- 
ment and  protracted  service  in  the  patriot  army,  was 
that  of  Deborah  Samson.  The  career  of  tliis  woman 
shows  that  her  motive  in  adopting  and  following  the 
care  or  of  a  soldier  was  a  praiseworthy  one.  The  whole 
country  was  aglow  with  patriotic  fervor,  and  in  no 
section  did  the  flame  burn  with  a  purer  luster  than 
in  that  where  Deborah  was  nurtured.  It  was  not  idle 
curiosity  nor  mere  love  of  roving,  that  incited  her,  in 


^ 


DEBOIiAH  SAMSOirS  PATRIOTISM. 


I 


403 


those  straiLlaced  days,  to  abandon  her  home  and  join 
in  the  perilous  fray  where  the  standard  of  freedom 
was  "  full  high  advanced."  She  had  evidently  counted 
the  cost  or  the  extraordinary  step  which  she  was 
about  to  take,  but  found  in  the  difficulties  and  dangers 
which  it  entailed  nothing  to  obstruct  or  daunt  her 
purpose. 

Her  parents  were  in  humble  circumstance?,  and 
lived  in  Plymouth,  Massachusetts,  where  Deborah 
grew  up  with  but  slender  advantages  for  anything 
more  than  a  practical  education ;  and  yet  such  was 
her  dftgence  in  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  that  be- 
fore me  was  eighteen  she  had  shown  herself  compe- 
tent to  take  charge  of  a  district  school,  in  which  duty 
she  lisplayed  some  of  the  same  qualities  which  made 
her  jafter-career  remarkable. 

Sme  seems  for  several  months  to  have  cherished  the 
secrot  purpose  of  enlisting  in  the  American  army,  and 
with  that  view  laid  aside  a  small  sum  from  her  scanty 
earnings  as  a  school-teacher,  with  which  she  purchased 
a  quantity  of  coarse  fustian;  out  of  this  material,  work- 
ing at  intervals  and  by  stealth,  she  made  a  complete 
suit  of  men's  clothes,  concealing  in  a  hay-stack  each 
article  as  it  was  fmishcd.  ^ 

When  her  prepare' tions  had  been  completed,  she  in- 
formed her  friends  that  she  was  going  in  search  of 
higher  wages  for  her  labor.  Tieing  her  new  suit  of 
men's  attire  in  a  bundle,  she  took  her  departure.  She 
probably  availed  herself  of  the  nearest  shelter  for  the 
purpose  of  assuming  her  disguise.  Her  stature  was 
lofty  for  a  woman,  and  her  features,  though  finely 
proportioned,  were  of  a  masculine  cast.  When  at  a 
subsequent  period  she  had  donned  the  buff  and  blue 


v^ 


404 


WOMAN  IN  TEE  ARMY. 


regimentals  and  marched  in  the  ranks  of  the  patriot 
army,  she  is  said  to  have  looked  every  inch  the 
soldier. 

Pursuing  her  way  she  presented  herself  at  the  camp 
of  the  American  army  as  one  of  those  patriotic  young 
men  who  desired  to  assist  in  opposing  the  British,  and 
securing  the  independence  of  their  country. 

Her  friends,  supposing  that  she  was  engaged  at  ser- 
vice at  some  distant  point,  made  little  inquiry  as  to 
her  whereabouts,  knowing  her  self-reliance,  and  her 
ability  to  follow  out  her  own  career  without  the  aid  of 
their  counsel  or  assistance.  Those  who  were  nearest 
to  her  appear  to  have  never  made  such  a  search  fo! 
her  as  would  have  led  to  her  discovery. 

Having  decided  to  enlist  for  the  whole  term  of  the 
war,  from  motives  of  patriotism,  she  was  received  and 
enrolled  as  one  of  the  first  volunteers  in  the  company 
of  Captain  Nathan  Thayer,  of  Medway,  Massachusetts, 
under  the  name  of  Robert  Shirtliffe.  Without  friends 
and  homeless,  .is  the  young  recruit  appeared  to  be,  she 
interested  Captain  Thayer,  and  was  received  into  his 
family  while  he  was  recruiting  his  company.  Here  she 
remained  some  weeks,  and  received  her  first  lessons 
in  the  drill  and  duties  of  the  young  soldier. 

"  Accustomed  to  labor  from  childhood  upon  the 
farm  and  in  outdoor  employment,  she  had  acquired 
unusual  vigor  of  constitution ;  her  frame  was  robust 
and  of  masculine  strength ;  and,  having  thus  gained 
a  degree  of  hardihood,  she  was  enabled  to  acquire 
great  expertncss  and  precision  in  the  manual  exercise, 
and  to  undergo  what  a  female,  delicately  nurtured, 
would  have  found  it  impossible  to  endure.  Soon  after 
they  had  joined  the  company,  the  recruits  were  sup- 


t 


i 


A  WOMAN  IN  LOVE  WITH  A  WOMAN. 


405 


I   • 


'^^  ^¥ 


I 


I 


plied  with  uniforms  by  a  kind  of  lottery.  That  drawn 
by  Robert  did  not  fit,  but,  taking  needle  and  scissors, 
he  soon  altered  it  to  suit  him.  To  Mrs.  Thayer's 
expression  of  surprise  at  finding  a  young  man  so 
expert  in  using  the  implements  of  feminine  industry, 
the  answer  was,  that,  his  mother  having  no  girl,  he 
had  been  often  obliged  to  practice  the  seamstress's 
art." 

While  in  the  family  of  Captain  Tha;ycr,  she  was 
thrown  much  into  the  society  of  a  young  girl  then 
visiting  Mrs.  Thayer.  She  soon  began  to  show  much 
partiality  for  Deborah  (or  Robert),  and  as  she  seemed 
to  be  versed  in  the  arts  of  coquetry,  Robert  felt  no 
scruples  in  paying  close  attention  to  one  so  volatile 
and  fond  of  flirtation ;  she  also  felt  a  natural  curiosity 
to  learn  within  how  short  a  time  a  maiden's  fancy 
might  be  won. 

Mrs.  Thayer  regarded  this  little  romance  with  some 
uneasiness,  as  she  could  not  help  perceiving  that 
Robert  did  not  entirely  reciprocate  her  young  friend's 
affection.  She  accordingly  lost  no  time  in  remonstrat- 
ing with  Robert,  and  warning  him  of  the  serious 
consequences  of  his  folly  in  trifling  with  the  feelings 
of  the  maiden.  The  remonstrance  and  oaution  were 
good-naturedly  received,  and  the  departure  of  the 
blooming  soldier  soon  after  terminated  all  these  love 
passages,  though  Robert  received  from  liis  fair  young 
friend  some  souvenirs,  which  he  cherished  as  relics  in 
after  years. 

For  three  years,  and  until  1781,  our  heroine  appears 
as  a  soldier,  and  during  this  time  she  gained  the 
approbation  and  confidence  of  the  officers  by  her 
exemplary  conduct  and  by  the  fidelity  with  which 


: 


t 


^it 


406 


WOMAN  L\  THE  ARMY. 


her  duties  were  performed.  When  under  fire,  she 
showed  an  unflinching  boldness,  and  was  a  volunteer 
in  several  hazardous  enterprises.  The  first  time  she 
was  wounded,  was  in  a  hand-to-hand  fight  with  a 
British  dragoon,  when  she  received  a  severe  sword-cut 
in  the  side  of  her  head,  laying  bare  her  skull. 

About  four  months  after  the  first  wound,  she  was 
again  doomed  to  bleed  in  her  country's  cause,  receiv- 
ing another  severe  wound  in  her  shoulder,  the  bullet 
burying  itself  deeply,  and  necessitating  a  surgical 
examination. 

She  described  her  first  emotion  when  the  ball  struck 
her,  as  a  sickening  terror  lest  her  sex  should  be 
discovered.  The  pain  of  the  wound  was  scarcely  felt 
in  her  excitement  and  alarm,  even  death  on  the 
battle-field  she  felt  would  be  preferable  to  the  shame 
that  would  overwhelm  her  in  case  the  mystery  of  her 
life  were  unveiled.  Her  secret,  however,  remained 
undiscovered,  and,  recovering  from  her  wound,  she 
was  soon  able  again  to  take  her  place  in  the  ranks. 

Some  time  after,  she  was  seized  with  a  brain  fever, 
which  was  then  prevalent  in  the  army.  During  the 
first  stages  of  her  malady,  her  greatest  suffering  was 
the  dread  that  consciousness  would  desert  her  and  her 
carefully  guarded  secret  be  disclosed  to  those  about 
her.  She  was  carried  to  the  hospital,  where  her  case 
was  considered  a  hopeless  one.  One  day  the  doctor 
approached  the  bed  where  she  lay,  a  corpse,  as  every 
one  supposed.  Taking  her  hand,  he  found  the  pulse 
feebly  beating,  and,  attempting  to  place  his  hand  on 
the  heart,  he  discovered  a  female  patient,  where  he 
had  little  expected  one.  The  surgeon  said  not  a  word 
of  his  discovery,  but  with  a  prudence,  delicacy,  and 


THE  SECRET  REVEALED.  ^QT 

generosity  ever  afterwards  appreciated  by  the  sufferer, 
he  provided  every  comfort  her  perilous  condition 
required,  and  paid  her  those  medical  attentions  which 
soon  secured  her  return  to  consciousness.  As  soon  as 
her  condition  would  permit,  he  had  her  removed  to 
his  own  house,  where  she  could  receive  the  better 
care. 

After  her  health  was  nearly  restored.  Doctor  Binney, 
her  generous  benefactor,  had  a  long  conference  with 
the  commanding  officer  of  the  company  in  which 
Robert  had  served,  and  this  was  followed  by  an  order 
to  the  youth  to  carry  a  letter  to  General  Washington. 

Ever  since  her  removal  into  the  doctor's  family,  she 
had  entertained  the  suspicion  that  he  had  discovered 
the  secret  of  her  life.  Often  while  conversing  with 
him,  she  watched  his  face  with  anxiety,  but  never  dis- 
covered a  word  or  look  to  indicate  that  the  physician 
knew  or  suspected  that  she  was  other  than  what  she 
represented  herself  to  be.  But  when  she  received 
the  order  to  carry  the  letter  to  the  commander-in- 
chief,  her  long  cherished  misgivings  became  at  last  a 
certainty. 

The  order  must  be  obeyed.  With  a  trembling 
heart  she  pursued  her  course  to  the  headquarters  of 
Washington.  When  she  was  ushered  into  the  presence 
of  the  Chief,  she  was  overpowered  with  dread  and 
uncertainty,  and  showed  upon  her  face  the  alarm  and 
confusion  which  she  felt.  Washington,  noticing  her 
agitation,  and  supposing  it  to  arise  from  diffidence, 
kindly  endeavored  to  re-assure  her.  She  was  soon 
bidden  to  retire  with  an  attendant,  while  he  read  the 
communication  of  which  she  had  been  the  bearer. 

In  a  few  moments,  she  was  again  summoned  to  the 


408 


W03IAN  IN  THE  ARMY. 


presence  of  Washington,  who  handed  her  in  silence  a 
discharge  from  the  service,  with  a  note  containing  a 
few  brief  words  of  advice,  and  a  sum  of  money  suffi- 
cient to  bear  her  expenses  to  some  place  where  she 
might  find  a  home.  To  her  latest  hour,  she  never 
forgot  the  delicacy  and  forbearance  shown  her  by  that 
great  and  good  man. 

After  the  war  was  over,  she  became  the  wife  of 
Benjamin  Gannet,  of  Sharon.  During  the  presidency 
of  General  Washington,  she  was  invited  to  visit  the 
seat  of  government,  and,  during  her  stay  at  the 
capital,  Congress  granted  her  a  pension  and  certain 
lands  in  consideration  of  her  services  to  the  country 
as  a  soldier. 

In  the  War  of  1812,  woman  shared  more  or  less  in 
the  hard  and  perilous  duties  of  a  soldier,  especially 
upon  the  Canadian  border,  and  on  the  western  fron- 
tier, where  Indian  hostilities  now  broke  out  afresh. 
She  stood  guard  in  the  homes  exposed  to  attack  all 
along  the  thin  line,  which  the  savage  or  the  British 
soldier  threatened  to  break  through,  and  on  more 
than  one  battle-field  proved  her  lineal  descent  from 
the  brave  mothers  of  the  Revolution. 

To  the  female  imagination,  the  war  with  Mexico 
must  have  been  clothed  with  peculiar  hardships  and 
dangers.  The  length  of  the  marches,  the  vast  dis- 
tance from  home,  the  torrid  heats,  fell  diseases  that 
prevailed  in  that  clime,  and  the  nature  of  the  half- 
civilized  enemy,  all  conspired  to  warn  the  gentler 
sex  against  taking  part  in  that  conflict.  And  yet  all 
these  appalling  difficulties  and  perils  could  not  damp 
the  martial  ardor  of  Mrs.  Coolidge.  She  was  born  in 
Missouri,  where,  at  St.  Louis,  she  married  her  husband, 


MARCHING  INTO  MEXICO. 


409 


who  was  a  Mexican  trader.  Accompanying  him  on 
one  of  his  yearly  journeys  to  Santa  F^,  she  had  the 
misfortune  to  see  him  meet  his  death,  at  the  hands  of 
a  Mexican  bravo,  in  the  outskirts  of  that  city. 

Her  hfe  had  been  a  stirring  one  from  her  early 
girlhood,  and,  when  war  broke  out  with  Mexico,  she 
attired  herself  in  manly  garments,  and  by  her  stature 
and  rather  masculine  appearance  readily  passed  muster 
with  the  recruiting  officer.  Under  the  name  of  James 
Brown,  she  was  duly  entered  on  the  rolls  of  a  Missouri 
company,  which  soon  after  took  steamboat  for  Fort 
Leavenworth,  the  rendezvous.  From  this  point,  on 
the  16th  of  June,  1846,  a  force  of  sixteen  hundred 
and  fifty-eight  men,  including  our  heroine  (or  hero), 
took  up  their  line  of  march  to  Santa  F^. 

Most  of  this  little  army  were  mounted  men,  and  of 
this  number  was  Mrs.  Coolidge,  who  was  an  admirable 
horsewoman.  Their  course  lav  over  the  almost  bound- 
less  plains  that  stretch  westward  to  the  foot-hills  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  a  distance  of  nearly  one  thousand 
miles. 

In  fifty  days  they  reached  Santa  Fe,  of  which  they 
took  possession  Avithout  opposition.  The  soldierly 
bearing  and  quick  intelligence  of  Mrs.  Coohdge  soon 
attracted  the  attention  of  Col.  Kearney,  the  command- 
ing officer,  and  she  was  selected  by  him  to  be  one  of 
the  bearers  of  dispatches  to  the  war  department. 

A  picked  mustang,  of  extraordinary  mettle  and 
endurance,  was  placed  at  her  disposal ;  a  strong  and 
fleet  horse  of  the  messenger  stock,  crossed  with  the 
mustang,  was  selected  for  her  guide,  a  sturdy  Scotch- 
man, formerly  in  the  Santa  Fe  trade ;  and  one  bright 
day,  early  in  September,  they  set  out  on  their  long 


410 


WOaiAN  IN  THE  ARMY. 


I 


and  perilous  journey  for  Leavenworth.  Tlie  first 
sixteen  miles,  over  a  broken  and  hilly  country,  was 
void  of  incident.  They  had  passed  through  Arroyo 
Hondo  and  reached  the  Canon,  (El  Boca  del  Canon,) 
one  of  the  gateways  to  Santa  Fe;  as  they  were 
threading  this  narrow  pass,  they  saw,  on  turning  a 
short  angle  of  the  precipice  that  towered  three  hun- 
dred feet  above  them,  four  mounted  Mexicans,  armed 
to  the  teeth  and  prepared  to  dispute  their  passage. 
One  of  them  dismounted,  and,  advancing  towards  our 
couriers,  waved  a  white  handkerchief,  and  demanded 
in  Spanish  and  in  broken  English  their  surrender.  The 
guide  replied  in  very  concise  English,  telling  him  to 
,,go  to  a  place  unmentionable  to  polite  ears.  The  en- 
voy immediately  rejoined  his  companions  and  mounted 
his  horse  ;  the  party  then  turned  and  trotted  forward 
0  few  paces  as  if  they  were  about  to  give  Mrs. 
Coolidge  and  the  guide  a  free  passage,  when  they 
suddenly  wheeled  their  horses,  and,  discharging  their 
pieces,  seized  their  lances  and  dashed  down  full  tilt 
-upon  our  heroine  and  her  guide.  A  shot  from  the 
'^guide's  rifle  hurled  one  of  the  Mexicans  out  of  his 
sftdiJle,  like  a  stone  from  a  sling.  Mrs.  Coolidge  was 
less  fortunate  in  her  aim;  missing  the  rider,  her 
bullet  struck  a  horse  full  in  the  forehead,  but  such  was 
the  speed  with  which  it  was  approaching,  that  it  was 
carried  within  twenty  paces  of  the  spot  where  she 
stood  Ijefore  it  fell ;  the  rider,  uninjured,  quickly 
extricated  himself,  and,  seizing  from  his  holster  a 
horse-pistol,  shot  Mrs.  Coolidge's  horse,  which  never- 
theless still  kept  his  legs,  and,  as  her  assailant  rushed 
towards  her  with  his  machete,  or  large  knife,  she 
leveled  a  pistol  and  sent  a  ball  through  one  of  his 


,-•  -. 


5t 


0 


•«* 


••WMKl'TW  fWlWt**" 


"fwiwinJiiiBAKr 


/"iJ^fS  ^aWK^' 


Ml 


t 


I 

I 


.''^^ 


I 


I 


DEFEAT  OF  GUERRILLAS. 


411 


legs,  breaking  it  and  bringing  him  to  the  ground. 
Dismounting  from  her  horse,  which  w.is  reehng  and 
staggering  with  loss  of  blood,  she  held  her  other  pistol 
to  the  head  of  the  prostrate  guerrilla,  who  surrendered 
at  discretion. 

Meanwhile,  the  guide  had  dispatched  one  of  the 
two  remaining  Mexicans,  and,  though  he  had  a  shot 
in  the  fleshy  part  of  his  leg,  he  had  succeeded  in  com- 
pelling the  other  to  surrender  by  shooting  his  horse. 

Mrs.  Coolidge  now,  for  the  first  time,  discovered 
blood  dripping  from  a  wound  made  by  a  musket-ball  in 
her  bridle-arm.  Hastily  winding  her  scarf  about  it, 
she  bound  the  arms  of  her  prisoner  with  a  piece  of 
rope,  and  broke  his  lance  and  the  locks  of  his  pistols 
and  carbine.  The  other  prisoner  was  served  in  the 
same  fashion.  The  arms  of  the  two  dead  Mexicans 
were  also  broken  or  disabled.  The  fleetest  and  best 
of  the  two  remaining  horses  was  taken  by  Mrs. 
Coolidge  in  lieu  of  her  own  gallant  little  mustang, 
which  was  now  gasping  out  his  li^e  on  the  :  ocky 
bottom  of  the  pass.  Our  gallant  couriers  then  paroled 
the  two  prisoners,  and  galloped  rapidly  down  the 
canon,  taking  the  other  mustang  with  them,  and 
leaving  the  guerrillas  to  find  their  way  home  as  they 
best  tr.ight.  As  they  mounted  their  horses,  the  guide 
renuaked  to  Mrs.  Coolidge  that  he  had  heretofore 
entertained  the  suspicion  that  she  might  be  x  woman, 
but  that  now  he  knew  she  was  a  luan. 

A  swift  ride  brought  them  to  old  Pecos,  a  distance 
of  ten  miles,  where  they  supped  and  passed  the  night. 
Tiieir  wounds  were  mere  scratches  and  did  not  neces- 
sitate any  delay,  and  the  next  day,  after  a  long,  slow 
gallop,  they  reached  Los  Vegas.    Then,  keeping  their 


Ul 


1 


412 


WOMAN  IN  THE  ARMY. 


course  to  the  northwest  and  pushing  rapidly  forward, 
they  passed  the  present  site  of  Fort  Union,  and, 
having  secured  a  hirge  supply  of  dried  buffalo  meat, 
crossed  the  wonderful  mesa  or  table-land  west  of  the 
Canadian  River,  and  encamped  for  a  night  and  day 
on  the  east  bank  of  that  stream. 

The  next  stretch  for  two  hundred  miles  lay  through 
a  country  infested  with  Utah  and  Apache  Indians. 
Three  or  four  days  of  swift  riding  would  carry  them 
through  this  dangerous  region  to  a  place  of  security 
on  the  Arkansas  River.  If  they  should  meet  a  hostile 
band,  it  was  agreed  that  they  would  trust  for  safety 
in  the  swiftness  of  their  steeds,  which  lad  already 
proved  themselves  capable  of  both  speed  and  endur- 
ance. ''• 

They  had  crossed  Rabbit  ear  Creek  and  reached  the 
Cimarron,  without  seeing  even  the  sign  of  a  foe, 
when,  early  one  morning,  the  guide,  looking  eastward 
over  the  vast  sandy  plain,  from  the  camp  where  they 
had  passed  the  night,  saw  far  away  a  body  of  fifty 
mounted  Indians,  whom,  after  examining  with  his 
glass,  he  pronounced  to  be  Utahs  coming  rapidly 
towards  them.  There  was  no  escape,  and,  in  accord- 
ance with  their  progranmie,  they  mounted  their  horses 
and  rode  slowly  to  meet  them. 

The  Indians,  spying  them,  formed  a  semicircle  and 
galloped  towards  the  fearless  couple,  who  put  their 
horses  to  a  canter,  and,  riding  directly  against  the 
center  of  the  line  of  warriors,  dashed  through  it  on 
the  run.  The  Indians,  quickly  recovering  from  tlie 
astonishment  produced  by  this  daring  mananiver, 
wheeled  their  horses  and  dashed  after  them.  All  but 
ten  of  the.  Indians  were  soon  distanced  j   these  ten 


•V* 


I  ) 


!       ; 


^P 


.- 


PURSUED  BY  INDIANS. 


413 


continued  the  pursuit,  but  in  an  hour  and  a  half  this 
number  was  reduc^ed  to  seven,  and  in  another  hour 
only  five  remained.  They  were  evidently  young 
braves,  who  were  hoping  to  distinguish  themselves 
by  taking  two  American  soldiers'  scalps. 

On  they  sped — the  pursuers  and  the  pursued— over 
the  wild  plain.  A  space  of  barely  half  a  mile  divided 
them.  The  horses,  however,  of  each  party  seemed  so 
evenly  matched  in  speed  and  endurance  that  neither 
gained  on  the  other.  The  mustangs,  the  one  ridden 
by  our  heroine,  the  other  with  only  a  ninety  pound 
pack  on  its  back,  though  glossy  with  sweat,  and  their 
nostrils  crimson  and  expanded  with  the  terrible  strain 
upon  them,  showed  no  sign  of  flagging.  The  guide's 
horse,  a  heavier  animal,  began  at  length  to  show 
symptoms  of  fatigue.  If  there  had  been  time,  he 
would  have  shifted  his  saddle  on  the  pack-mustang, 
but  this  was  not  to  be  thought  of.  By  dint  of  spur- 
ring and  lashing  the  smoking  flanks  of  the  now  droop- 
ing steed,  he  barely  kept  his  place  by  the  side  of  his 
companion. 

They  were  now  near  a  small  creek,  an  affluent  of 
the  Arkansas,  when  the  guide,  turning  his  eyes,  saw 
that  only  three  of  the  Indians  were  on  their  trail,  the 
two  others  were  galloping  slowly  back.  Just  as  he 
announced  this  fact  to  Mrs.  Coolidge,  his  tired  horse 
fell  heavily,  throwing  him  forward  upon  his  head  and 
stunning  him  senseless. 

Our  heroine,  dismounting,  dragged  her  unconscious 
comrade  to  the  bank  of  the  creek,  and,  throwing 
water  in  his  face,  quickly  restored  him  to  his  senses ; 
but,  before  he  could  handle  his  gun,  the  Indians  had 
come  within  a  hundred  paces,  whooping  fiercely  to 


t 


u\ 


414 


WOMAN  IN  THE  ARMY. 


call  back  their  companions,  who  just  before  abandoned 
the  pursuit.  They  were  luckily  only  armed  with 
bows  and  arrows,  and,  circling  about  the  fearless  pair, 
they  launched  arrow  after  arrow,  though  without 
doing  any  execution.  One  of  them  fell  before  the 
rifle  of  Mrs.  Coolidge.  A  second  was  brought  to 
earth  by  the  guide,  who  _  had  by  this  time  revived 
sufficiently  to  join  in  the  fight.  The  third  turned  and 
galloped  off  towards  his  two  companions,  who  were 
now  hastening  to  the  scene  of  conflict. 

This  gave  our  heroine  and  her  associate  in  danger 
time  to  reload  their  rifles  and  to  shield  their  horses 
behind  the  bank  of  the  creek.  Then,  lying  prostrate 
in  the  grass,  they  completely  concealed  themselves 
from  sight.  The  three  Indians,  seeing  them  disappear 
behind  the  bank  of  the  creek,  and  supposing  that  they 
had  taken  to  flight  again,  rode  unguardedly  within 
range,  and  received  shots  which  tumbled  two  of  them 
from  their  saddles.  The  only  remaining  warrior  gave 
up  the  contest  and  galloped  away,  leaving  his  comrades 
dead  upon  the  field.  One  of  the  Indian  mustangs 
supplied  the  place  of  the  guide's  horse,  which  was 
wind-broken,  and  the  two  ?iow  pursued  their  journey  at 
a  moderate  pace,  reaching  Fort  Leavenworth  without 
encountering  any  more  dangers. 

Mrs.  Coolidge  (under  her  pseudonym  of  James 
Brown),  after  delivering  her  despatches,  was  promoted 
to  the  rank  of  sergeant,  and  was,  at  her  own  request, 
detached  from  tlie  New  Mexican  division  of  tlic  army 
and  ordered  to  Matamoras,  where  she  did  garrison 
duty  without  any  suspicion  being  awakened  as  to  her 
sex.  She  afterwards  entered  active  service,  and 
accompanied  the  army  on  the  march  to  the  city  of 


•^ 


WOMAN'S  POSITION  ON  THE  FRONTIER.  4^5 

Mexico.  She  took  part  in  the  storaiing  of  Chepultepee, 
and  never  flinched  in  that  severe  aftair,  covering  her- 
self with  honor,  and  proving  what  brave  deeds  a 
woman  can  do  in  the  severest  test  to  which  a  soldier  can 
be  put. 
i       '  During  the  recent  war  between  the  North  and  the 

South  woman's  position  on  the  frontier  was  similar  to 
that  which  she  occupied  in  the  war  of  1812.  The 
greater  part  of  the  army  of  the  United  States,  which, 
in  time  of  peace,  was  stationed  along  the  vast  border 
line  from  the  Red  River  of  the  North  to  the  Rio 
Grande,  had  been  withdrawn.  The  outposts,  by  means 
of  which  the  blood-thirsty  Sioux,  the  savage  Coman- 
ches,  the  remorseless  Apaches,  and  numerous  other 
fierce  and  war  like  tribes  had  been  kept  in  check, 
were  either  abandoned,  or  so  poorly  garrisoned  that 
the  settlements  upon  the  border  were  left  almost 
entirely  unprotected  from  the  treacherous  savage,  the 
lawless  Mexican  bandit,  and  the  American  outlaw  and 
desperado. 

What  made  their  position  still  more  unguarded  and 
dangerous  was  the  absence  of  their  fathers,  husbands, 
and  brothers,  as  volunteers  in  the  armies.  The  war 
fever  raged  in  both  the  North  and  the  South,  and  no- 
where more  hotly  than  among  the  pioneers  from  Min- 
nesota to  Texas.  This  brave  and  hardy  class  of  men, 
accustomed  as  they  were  to  the  presence  of  danger, 
obeyed  the  call  to  arms  with  alacrity,  and  the  women 
appear  to  have  acquiesced  in  the  enlistment  of  their 
natural  protectors,  trusting  to  God  and  their  own  arms 
to  guard  the  household  during  the  absence  of  the  men 
of  the  family. 

The  women  were  thus  left  alone  to  face  their  human 


•>(^ 


t 


m^mm^m 


416 


WOAfAN  IN  THE  ARMY. 


foes,  and  the  thousand  other  perils  which  beset  them. 
They  were,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  soldiers.  They 
belonged  to  the  home  army,  upon  which  the  frontier 
would  have  mainly  to  rely  for  security.  Ceaseless 
vigilance  by  night  and  day,  and  a  steady  courage  in 
the  presence  of  danger,  had  to  be  constantly  exercised. 

Sometimes  the  savage  foe  came  in  overwhelming 
numbers,  and  in  such  cases  the  only  safety  lay  in 
flight,  during  which  all  woman's  address  and  fortitude 
was  called  into  requisition,  either  to  devise  means  of 
successfully  eluding  her  pursuers,  or  to  endure  the 
toils  and  hardships  of  a  rapid  march.  Sometimes  she 
stood  wuth  loaded  gun  in  her  household  garrison,  and 
faced  the  enemy,  either  repelling  them,  or  dying  a* 
her  post,  or,  what  was  worse  than  death,  seeing  her 
loved  ones  butchered  before  her  eyes,  and  their  being 
led  into  a  cruel  captivity. 

On  the  Texas  border,  in  1862,  one  of  these  home- 
warriors,  during  the  absence  of  her  husband  in  the 
Southern  army,  was  left  alone  not  far  from  the  Rio 
Grande,  and  ten  miles  from  the  house  of  any  Ameri- 
can settler.  Three  Mexican  horse  thieves  came  to  the 
house  and  demanded  the  key  of  the  stable,  in  which 
two  valuable  horses  were  ke]:)t,  threatening,  in  case  of 
refusal,  to  bum  her  house  over  her  head.  She  stood 
at  her  open  door,  with  Joadcd  revolver,  and  told  them 
that  not  only  would  she  not  surrender  the  property, 
but  that  the  first  one  tht\t  dared  to  lay  violent  hands 
upon  her  should  be  shot  down.  Cowed  by  her  intrepid 
manner,  the  bandits  slunk  away. 

On  another  occasion  she  was  attacked  by  two  Amer- 
ican outlaws,  while  riding  on  the  river  bank.  One  of 
them  seized  the  bridle  of  the  horse,  and  the  other 


•^ 


MASTERING  A  BANDIT. 


417 


J 


attempted  to  drag  her  from  the  saddle.  Turning  upon 
the  latter,  she  shot  him  dead,  and  the  other,  from 
sheer  amazement  at  her  daring,  lost  his  self-possession 
and  begged  for  mercy.  After  compelling  him  to  give 
up  his  arms,  she  allowed  him  to  depart  unmolested,  as 
there  was  no  tribunal  of  justice  near  by  where  he 
could  be  punished  for  his  villainy.  These  exploits 
gained  for  the  borderer's  wife  a  wide  reputation 
throughout  the  region,  and  either  through  fear  of  her 
courage,  or  through  an  admiring  respect  for  such 
heroism,  when  displayed  by  a  lone  woman,  she  was 
never  again  troubled  by  marauders. 

The  Sioux  war  in  Minnesota,  in  1862,  was  remark- 
able for  the  sufferings  endured  and  the  bravery  dis- 
played by  women  whose  husbands  had  left  them  to 
join  the  army. 

A  notable  instance  of  this  description  was  that  of 
two  married  sisters  who  lived  in  one  house  on  the 
Minnesota  River,  some  eighty  miles  above  Mankato. 
One  morning  in  the  spring  of  that  year  their  house 
was  surrounded  by  Sioux  Indians,  but  was  so  bravely 
defended  that  the  savages  withdrew  without  doing 
much  damage.  Two  weeks  of  perfect  peace  passed 
away,  and  the  two  sisters  renewed  their  outdoor  work 
as  fearlessly  as  ever,  as  their  secluded  situation  pre- 
vented them  from  hearing  of  the  ravages  of  the  Indi- 
ans in  the  eastern  settlements. 

Late  one  afternoon,  while  both  the  women  were 
sitting  in  a  small  grove,  not  far  from  the  house,  they 
heard  the  war-whoop,  and,  stealing  through  the 
bushes,  saw  ten  savages,  who  had  dragged  the  three 
children  from  the  house  and  cut  their  throats,  and, 
after  scalping  them,  were  dancing  about  their  mangled 
27 


418 


WOMAN  IN  THE  ARMY. 


corpses.  They  then  set  fire  to  the  house  and  barns, 
and,  butchering  the  cow,  proceeded  to  prepare  a  great 
feast. 

Not  knowing  how  long  the  monsters  would  remain, 
and  having  no  food  nor  means  to  procure  any,  the 
hapless  women  set  out  for  the  nearest  house,  which 
was  situated  ten  miles  to  the  east.  They  succeeded 
in  reaching  the  spot  at  ten  o'clock  that  night,  but 
found  nothing  but  a  heap  of  ashes  and  two  mangled 
bodies  of  a  woman  and  her  child. 

Grief,  fear,  and  fatigue  kept  them  from  obtaining 
that  rest  they  so  much  needed,  and  before  daylight 
they  resumed  their  march  towards  the  next  house, 
eight  miles  farther  east.  This  had  also  been  destroyed. 
The  younger  sister,  who  was  the  mother  of  the  three 
children  who  had  been  butchered,  now  gave  up  in 
grief  and  despair,  and  declared  that  she  would  die 
there.  But  she  was  at  length  induced  to  proceed  by 
the  urgent  persuasions  of  the  older  and  stronger 
woman. 

The  borders  of  the  river  at  this  point  were  covered 
with  woods  rendered  impervious  to  the  rays  of  the 
sun  by  the  herbs,  and  shrubs  that  crept  up  the 
trunks,  and  twined  around  the  1,  inches  of  the 
trees.  They  resumed  their  melancholy  journey ;  but 
observing  that  following  the  course  of  the  river  con- 
siderably lengthened  their  route,  they  entered  into 
the  wood,  and  in  a  few  days  lost  their  way.  Though 
now  nearly  famished,  oppressed  with  thirst,  and  their 
feet  sorely  wounded  with  briars  and  thorns,  they 
continued  to  push  forward  through  immeasurable 
wilds  and  gloomy  forests,  drawing  refreshment  from 
the  berries  and  wild  fruits  they  were  able  to  collect. 


mfM 


LOST  IN  THE  WOODS. 


419 


At  length,  exhausted  by  hunger  and  fatigue,  their 
strength  failed  them,  and  they  sunk  down  helpless  and 
forlorn.  Here  they  waited  impatiently  for  death  to 
relieve  them  from  their  misery.  In  four  days  the 
younger  sister  expired,  and  the  elder  continued 
stretched  beside  her  sister's  corpse  for  forty-eight  hours, 
deprived  of  the  use  of  all  her  faculties.  At  last  Provi- 
dence gave  her  strength  and  courage  to  quit  the  mel- 
ancholy scene,  and  attempt  to  pursue  her  journey. 
She  was  now  without  stockings,  barefooted,  and  al- 
most naked ;  two  cloaks,  which  had  been  torn  to  rags 
by  the  briars,  afforded  her  but  a  scanty  covering. 
Having  cut  off  the  soles  of  her  sister's  shoes,  she  fas- 
tened them  to  her  feet,  and  went  on  her  lonely  way. 
The  second  day  of  her  journey  she  found  water;  and 
the  day  following,  some  wild  fruit  and  green  eggs ;  but 
so  much  was  her  throat  contracted  by  the  privation  of 
nutriment,  that  she  could  hardly  swallow  such  a  suffi- 
ciency of  the  sustenance  which  chance  presented  to 
her  as  would  support  her  emaciated  frame. 

That  evening  she  was  found  by  a  party  of  volun- 
teers who  had  been  in  pursuit  of  the  Indians,  and  she  was 
brought  into  the  nearest  settlement  in  a  condition  of 
body  and  mind  to  which  even  death  would  have  been 
preferable. 

Notwithstanding  the  dangers  and  distractions  of 
this  quasi-military  life  led  by  wives  and  mothers  on 
the  frontier,  they  did  not  neglect  their  other  home 
duties. 

When  the  scarred  and  swarthy  veterans  returned 
to  their  homes  on  the  border  there  were  no  marks  of 
neglect  to  be  erased,  no  evidences  of  dilapidation  and 
decay.     "  They  found  their  farms  in  as  good  a  condi- 


420 


WOMAN  IN  THE  ARMY. 


tion  as  when  they  enlisted.  Enhanced  prices  had  bal- 
anced diminished  production.  Crops  had  been  planted, 
tended,  and  gathered,  by  hands  that  before  had  been 
all  nnused  to  the  hoe  and  the  rake.  The  sadness  lasted 
only  in  those  households — alas !  too  numerous — where 
no  disbanding  of  armies  could  restore  the  soldier  to 
the  loving  arms  and  the  blessed  industries  of  home." 

These  women  of  the  frontier  during  the  late  war 
may  be  called  the  irregular  forces  of  the  army,  soldiers 
in  all  respects  except  in  being  enrolled  and  placed  un- 
der officers.  They  fought  and  marched,  stood  on 
guard  and  were  taken  prisoners.  They  viewed  the 
horrors  of  war  and  were  under  fire  although  they  did 
not  wear  the  army  uniform  nor  walk  in  fil  and  pla- 
toons. All  these  things  they  did  in  addition  to  thei/ 
work  as  housewives,  farmers,  and  mothers. 

Many  others  took  naturally  to  the  rough  life  of  a 
soldier,  and  enlisting  under  soldiers'  guise  followed  the 
drum  on  foot  or  in  the  saddle,  and  encamped  on  the 
bare  ground  with  a  knapsack  for  a  pillow  and  no  cov- 
ering from  the  cold  and  rain  but  a  brown  army 
blanket. 

One  of  these  heroines  was  Miss  Louisa  Wellman  of 
Iowa.  Born  and  nurtured  on  the  border,  habituated 
from  childhood  to  an  outdoor  life,  a  fine  rider,  as  well 
as  a  good  shot  with  both  a  rifle  and  a  pistol,  it  was 
quite  natural  that  she  should  have  felt  a  martial  ardor 
when  the  war  commenced,  and  having  donned  her 
brother's  clothes,  should  have  enlisted  as  she  did  in  one 
of  the  Iowa  regiments.  Her  most  serious  annoyance 
was  the  rough  language  and  profanity  of  the  soldiers. 
While  in  camp  she  managed  to  associate  with  the  so- 
ber and  pious  soldiers,  of  whom  there  were  severnl  in 


<mtm 


MISS  WELLMAN  AS  A  SOLDIER. 


421 


the  company.  This  was  afterwards  known  as  "the 
praying  squad ;"  but  she  did  not  in  consequence  of 
her  rehictance  to  associate  with  the  others  lose  her 
popularity,  owing  to  her  unvarying  cheerfulness,  her 
generosity  and  her  disposition  to  oblige  often  at  the 
greatest  inconvenience  to  herself.  If  a  comrade  was 
taken  sick  she  was  the  first  to  tender  her  services  as 
watcher  and  nurse,  and  in  this  way  came  to  be  known 
as  «  Doctor  Ned." 

She  took  part  in  the  storming  of  Fort  Donelson 
where  she  was  slightly  wounded  in  the  wrist.  After- 
wards she  served  often  in  the  picket  line  and  distin- 
guished herself  by  her  courage,  vigilance,  and  shrewd- 
ness. The  boldness  with  which  she  exposed  herself 
on  every  occasion,  led  to  such  a  catastrophe  as  might 
have  been  expected.  The  battle  of  Pittsburgh  Land- 
ing was  an  affair  in  which  she  figured  with  a  cool 
bravery  that  kept  her  company  steady  in  spite  of  the 
terrible  fire  which  was  decimating  the  ranks  of  the 
Federal  Army.  The  pressure,  however,  was  at  last 
too  great.  Slowly  driven  towards  the  river,  and  fight- 
ing every  inch  of  ground,  the  regiment  in  which  she 
served  seemed  likely  to  be  annihilated.  They  had 
just  reached  the  shelter  of  the  gun-boats  when  a  stray 
shell  exploded  directly  in  the  faces  of  the  front  rank, 
and  Miss  Wellman  was  struck  and  thrown  violently  to 
the  earth,  but  instantly  sprang  to  her  feet  and  was 
able  to  walk  to  the  temporary  hospital  which  had  been 
established  near  the  river  bank. 

Like  Deborah  Samson,  her  sex  was  discovered  by 
the  surgeon  who  dressed  her  wound.  The  wound  was 
in  the  collar  bone  and  was  made  by  a  fragment  of 
bIUI.     Although  not  a  dangerous  one  it  required  im- 


I 


422 


WOMAN  IN  TUE  ARMY. 


mediate  attention.  When  the  surgeon  desired  her  to 
remove  her  army  jacket  she  demurred,  and  not  being 
able  to  assign  any  good  reason  for  her  refusal,  the  sur- 
geon coupling  this  with  the  modest  blush  which  suf- 
fused her  features  when  he  made  his  requisition  for 
the  removal  of  her  outside  garment,  immediately 
guessed  the  truth.  With  chivalrous  delicacy  he  imme- 
diately dispatched  her  with  a  note  to  the  wife  of  one 
of  the  Captains  who  was  in  the  camp  at  the  time,  rec- 
ommending the  maiden  soldier  to  her  care,  and  beg- 
ging that  she  would  dress  the  wound  in  accordance 
with  a  prescription  which  he  sent.  Although  Miss 
Wellman  begged  that  her  secret  might  not  be  disclosed 
and  that  she  might  be  permitted  to  continue  to  serve 
in  the  ranks,  it  was  judged  best  to  communicate  the 
fact  to  the  commanding  officer,  who,  though  he  admired 
the  bravery  and  resolution  of  the  maiden,  judged  best 
that  she  should  serve  in  another  capacity  if  at  all,  and 
having  notified  her  parents  and  obtained  their  consent 
she  was  allowed  to  do  service  in  the  ambulance  de- 
partment. 

She  was  furnished  with  a  horse,  side-saddle,  saddle- 
bags, etc.',  and  whenever  a  battle  took  place  she  would 
ride  fearlessly  to  the  front  to  assist  the  wounded. 
Many  a  poor  wounded  soldier  was  assisted  off  the 
field  by  her,  and  sometimes  she  would  dismount  from 
her  horse,  and,  aiding  the  wounded  man  to  climb  into 
the  saddle,  would  convey  him  to  the  hospital.  She 
carried  bandages  and  stimulants  in  her  saddle-bags, 
and  did  all  she  was  able  to  relieve  the  sufferings  of 
such  as  were  too  badly  wounded  to  be  removed. 

During  this  service  she  was  often  exposed  to  the 
enemy's  fire.     She  was  with  Grant  in  the  Yicksbfig 


A  CHRISTIAN  WOMAN-SOLDIER. 


423 


f » 


t 


campaign,  and  on  one  occasion,  being  attracted  by  a 
tremendous  firing,  rode  rapidly  forward,  and  missing 
her  way  found  herself  within  one  hundred  yards  of  a 
battalion  of  the  enemy,  whose  gray  jackets  could  be 
seen  through  the  smoke  of  their  rapid  firing.  Wheel- 
ing her  horse  she  galloped  out  of  range,  fortunately 
escaping  the  storm  of  bullets  which  flew  about  her. 

She  shared  the  hardships  as  well  as  the  perils  of  the 
soldiers,  and  in  the  bivouac  wrapped  herself  in  her 
blanket  and  lay  on  the  bare  ground,  with  no  other 
shelter  but  the  sky,  rising  at  the  sound  of  reveille  to 
partake  with  her  comrades  of  the  plain  camp  fare. 
All  this  she  did  cheerfully  and  with  her  whole  heart. 
Her  sympathy  was  not  bounded  by  the  wants  and 
sufferings  of  the  soldiers  of  the  federal  army,  but 
embraced  in  its  boundless  outpouring  those  of  her 
countrymen  who  were  then  ranged  against  her  as 
foes.  Many  a  sick  and  suffering  Southerner  had 
cause  to  bless  the  kindness  and  devotion  of  this  noble 
girl.  Herein  she  showed  herself  a  Christian  woman 
and  a  practical  example  of  the  teachings  of  Him  who 
said, — "Love  your  enemies."  Such  deeds  as  her's 
shine  amid  the  terrible  passions  and  carnage  of  war 
with  a  heavenly  radiance  which  time  can  never  dim. 

Either  in  the  army  or  in  close  connection  with  it, 
woman's  affectionate  devotion  was  illustrated  in  all 
those  relations  of  life  in  which  she  stands  beside  man. 
As  a  mother,  as  a  wife,  and  as  a  sister,  she  brightly 
displayed  this  quality.  The  following  instance  of 
wifely  devotion  is  related  of  a  woman  who  came  from 
the  Red  River  of  Louisiana  with  her  husband,  who 
was  a  Southern  officer. 
g^n  the  fall  of  18G3,  during  the  bombardment  of 


WOMAN  IN  THE  ARMY. 

Charlestcii  by  the  federal  batteries,  this  young  woman, 
being  tenderly  attached  to  her  husband,  who  was  in 
one  of  the  forts,  begged  the  mihtary  authorities  to 
alloT/  her  to  join  her  husband  and  share  the  fearful 
dangers  and  hardships  to  which  he  vras  daily  and 
nightly  exposed.  All  represeitations  of  the  difficul- 
ties, privations,  and  perils  she  would  encounter  failed 
to  daunt  her  in  her  purpose.  Tire  importunities  of 
the  loving  wife  prevailed  over  military  rules  and  even 
over  the  expostulations  of  her  husband,  and  she  was 
nllowed  to  take  her  post  beside  the  one  whom  she 
regarded  with  an  affection  amounting  to  idolatry. 
Sending  her  two  children  to  the  care  of  a  maiden 
aunt  some  miles  from  the  city,  she  was  conveyed  to 
her  husband's  battery,  a  large  earth-work  outside  of 
the  v.ity. 

Here  she  remained  for  sixty  days,  during  which  the 
battery  where  she  was,  made  one  of  the  principal 
targets  for  the  federrd  cannon.  For  weeks  together 
she  lay  aown  in  her  clothes  in  the  midst  of  the 
soldiers.  The  bursting  of  the  shells  and  the  sound  of 
the  federal  hund  rod-pounders,  with  answering  volleys 
from  the  fort,  scarcely  intermitted  night  or  day. 
Sleep  vvas  for  several  days  after  her  arrival  out  of  the 
question.  But  at  length  she  became  used  to  the 
canronade  and  enjoyed  'ntermittent  slumbers,  from 
which  she  was  sometimes  awakened  by  the  explosion 
of  a  shell  which  had  penetrated  the  roof  of  the  fort 
and  strewed  the  earth  with  dead  and  wounded. 

Her  only  food  was  the  wormy  ])read  and  half-cured 
pork  which  was  served  out  to  the  soldiers,  and  her 
drink  was  brackish  water  from  the  ditch  that  sur- 
rounded  the  earth-work.     The  cannonading   duri|jg 


1 


A  SINGULAR  AND  ROMANTIC  STORY. 


425 


the  day  was  so  furious  that  the  fort  was  often  almost 
reduced  to  ruins,  but  in  the  night  the  destruction  was 
repaired.  A  fleet  of  gunboats  joined  the  land  bat- 
teries in  bombarding  the  fort,  and  at  last  succeeded  in 
making  it  no  longer  tenable.  Guns  had  been  dis- 
mounted, the  bomb-proof  had  been  destroyed,  and  the 
sides  of  the  earth-work  were  full  of  breaches  where 
the  huge  ten-inch  balls  had  plojn^hed  their  way. 

During  all  these  terrifying  and  dreadful  scenes,  our 
heroine  stayed  at  her  post  of  love  and  duty  beside 
her  husband.  When  the  little  garrison  evacuated  the 
fort  at  night  and  retired  to  the  city,  she  was  carried 
in  an  ambulance  drawn  by  four  of  the  soldiers  in 
honor  of  her  courage  and  devotion. 

One  of  the  most  singular  and  romantic  stories  of  the 
late  war,  is  that  of  two  young  women  who  enlisted  at 
the  same  time,  and  were  engaged  in  active  service  for 
nearly  a  year  without  any  discovery  being  made  or 
even  a  suspicion  excited  as  to  their  true  sex. 

Sarah  Stover  and  Maria  Seelye,  for  these  were  the 
names  of  these  heroines  of  real  life,  being  homeless 
orphans,  and  finding  it  difficult  to  earn  a  subsistence 
on  a  small  farm  in  Western  Missouri,  where  they  lived, 
determined  to  enlist  as  volunteers  in  the  Federal 
Army.  Accordingly,  having  donned  male  attire  and 
proceeded  to  St.  Louis  early  in  18G3,  ^  ley  joined  a 
company  which  was  soon  after  ordered  to  proceed  to 
the  regiment,  which  was  a  part  of  the  army  of  the 
Potomac. 

Within  two  weeks  after  their  arrival  at  the  scene  of 
conlllct  in  the  East,  the  battle  of  Chancellorsville  was 
fought,  the  two  girls  participating  in  it  and  seeing 
something  of  the  horrors  of  the  war  in  which  they 


ft' 


426 


WOMAN  IN  THE  ARMY. 


!•  1 


were  engaged  as  soldiers.  In  one  of  the  minor  bai* 
ties  which  occurred  the  following  summer  they  were 
separated  in  the  confusion  of  the  fight,  and  upon  call- 
ing the  muster,  Miss  Stover,  known  in  the  regiment  as 
Edward  Malison,  was  found  among  the  missing.  Her 
comrade,  after  searching  for  her  among  the  killed  and 
wounded  in  vain,  at  last  ascertained  that  she  had  been 
taken  prisoner  and  conveyed  to  Richmond. 

Miss  Seelye,  although  she  was  well  aware  of  the 
serious  consequences  which  might  follow,  decided  to 
adopt  a  bold  plan  in  order  to  reach  her  friend  whom 
she  loved  so  devotedly,  and  who  was  now  suffering 
captivity  and  perhaps  wounds  or  disease.  Through 
an  old  negress  she  obtained  a  woman's  dress  and  bon- 
net, and  disguising  herself  in  these  garments,  deserted 
at  the  first  favornble  opportunity.  She  reached  V/ash- 
ington  in  safety  and  was  successful  in  an  application 
for  a  pass  to  Fortress  Monroe,  from  which  place  she 
made  her  way  after  many  difficulties  to  the  lines  of 
the  Southern  Army.  By  artful  representations  she 
overcame  the  scruples  of  the  officers  and  passed  on 
her  way  to  Richmond,  where  she  soon  arrived,  and 
overcoming  by  her  address  and  perseverance  all  obsta- 
cles, obtained  admission  to  Libby  Prison,  representing 
that  she  was  near  of  km  to  one  of  the  prisoners. 

Her  singular  success  in  accomplishing  her  olyect 
was  due  doubtless  to  her  intelligence,  fine  manners, 
and  good  looks,  with  great  tact  in  using  the  opportu- 
nities witliin  her  reach. 

She  found  her  friend  just  recovering  from  a  wound 
in  her  arm.  The  secret  of  her  sex  was  still  undiscov* 
ered ;  and  after  her  wound  was  entirely  healed  they 
prepared  to  attempt  an  escape  which  they  had  already 


ESCAPE  OF  THE  PRISONERS.  427 

planned.  Miss  Seelye  contrived  to  smuggle  into  the 
prison  a  complete  suit  of  female  attire,  in  which,  one 
night  just  as  they  were  relieving  the  guard,  she  man- 
aged to  slip  past  the  cordon  of  sentries,  and  joining 
her  friend  at  the  place  agreed  upon,  the  two  immedi- 
ately set  out  for  Raleigh,  to  which  city  Miss  Seelye 
had  obtained  two  passes,  one  for  herself,  the  other  for 
a  lady  friend.  They  traveled  on  foot,  and  after  pass- 
ing the  lines  struck  boldly  across  the  country  in  the 
direction  of  Norfolk.  When  morning  dawned  they 
concealed  themselves  in  a  wood  and  at  night  resumed 
their  march. 

On  one  occasion,  just  as  they  were  emerging  from 
a  wood  in  the  evening,  they  were  discovered  by  a 
cavalryman.  Their  appearance  excited  his  suspicions 
that  they  were  spies,  and  he  told  them  that  he  should 
have  to  take  them  to  headquarters.  But  their  lady- 
like manners  and  straightforward  answers  persuaded 
liim  that  ho  was  wrong,  and  he  allowed  them  to  pro- 
ceed. Another  time  they  narrowly  escaped  capture 
by  two  soldiers  who  suddenly  entered  the  cabin  of  an 
old  negro  where  they  were  passing  the  day. 

After  a  tedious  journey  of  a  week,  they  reached 
the  Federal  pickets,  and  finally  were  transported  to 
Washington  on  the  steamer.  This  was  in  the  autunm 
of  I8G0 ;  their  term  of  service  would  expire  in  two 
months,  but  after  great  hesitation  they  resolved  to 
report  themselves  to  the  headquarters  of  their  regi- 
ment as  just  escaped  from  Ilich'nond.  Accordingly, 
procuring  suits  of  men's  attire,  they  again  disguised 
their  sex  and  proceeded  to  rt\join  their  regiment, 
which  was  encamped  near  Washington. 

The  desertion  of  Miss  Seelye  having  been  explained 


428 


WOMAN  IN  THE  AR31Y. 


II  i 


in  this  manner,  she  escaped  its  serious  penalty,  and 
both  the  girls  were  soon  after  regularly  discharged 
from  service.  As  we  have  already  remarked,  no  sus- 
picion was  excited  as  to  their  sex,  each  shielding  the 
other  from  discovery,  and  it  was  only  after  their  dis- 
charge that  thoy  themselves  revealed  the  secret. 

The  stories  of  women  who  have  served  as  soldiers 
often  disclose  motive^  which  would  have  little  influ- 
ence in  impelling  the  other  sex  to  enter  the  army. 
Love  and  devotion  are  among  the  most  prominent  of 
the  moving  causes  of  female  enlistment.  Sometimes 
a  maiden,  like  Helen  Goodridge,  followed  her  lover  to 
the  war ;  sometimes  a  mother  enlisted  in  the  hospital 
department  in  order  to  nurse  a  wounded  or  sick  hus- 
band or  son.  It  was  often  some  species  of  devotion, 
either  to  individuals  or  to  her  country,  that  led  gentle 
woman  to  march  in  the  ranks  and  share  the  dangers 
and  privations  of  army  life.  Such  an  instance  as  the 
following  furnishes  a  singularly  striking  illustration 
of  this  unselfish  love  and  devotion  of  which  we  are 
speaking. 

While  the  hostile  armies  were  fighting,  in  the  sum- 
mer of  1864,  those  desperate  battles  by  which  the 
issues  of  the  ^\^dr  were  ultimately  decided,  a  small, 
slender  soldier  fighting  in  tlu;  ranks,  in  General  John- 
son's division,  was  struck  by  a  shell  which  tore  away 
tbe  left  arm  and  stretched  the  young  hero  lifeless  on 
the  ground.  A  comrade  in  pity  twisted  a  handker- 
chief around  the  wounded  limb  as  an  impromptu 
tourniquet,  and  thus  having  staunched  the  flowing 
blood,  placed  the  slender  form  of  tho  unfortunate 
soldier  under  a  tree  and  passed  on.  Here  half  an 
hour  after  ho  was  found  by  the  ambulance  m>)n  and 


' 


A  SINGULAR  STORY. 


429 


„ 


brought  to  tlie  hospital,  where  the  surgeon  discovered 
that  the  heroic  heart,  still  faintly  beating,  animated 
the  delicate  frame  of  a  woman. 

Powerful  stimulants  were  administered,  and  as  soon 
as  strength  was  restored  the  stump  of  the  wounded 
limb  was  amputated  near  the  shoulder.  For  a  week 
the  patient  hovered  between  life  and  death.  But  her 
vitality  triumphed  in  the  struggle,  and  in  a  few  days, 
with  careful  nursing  she  was  able  to  sit  up  and  con- 
verse. One  of  those  noble  women,  who  emulated  the 
exfimple  and  the  glory  of  Florence  Nightingale  in  nurs- 
ing and  ministering  to  the  sick  and  wounded  in  the 
army,  won  the  maiden-soldier's  confidence,  and  into 
her  ear  she  breathed  her  story. 

She  and  a  brother  aged  eighteen  had  been  left  or- 
phans two  years  before.  They  were  in  destitute  cir- 
cumstances and  had  no  near  relations.  They  both 
sujiported  themselves  by  honest  toil,  and  their  lonely 
and  friendless  situation  had  drawn  them  together  with 
1  warmth  of  affection,  that  even  between  a  brother  and 
sister  has  been  rarely  felt.  They  were  all  in  all  to 
each  other,  and  when,  in  the  spring  of  1864,  her  brother 
had  been  drafted  into  the  army,  she  learned  the 
name  of  the  regiment  to  which  he  had  been  assigned, 
and  unknown  to  him  assumed  male  attire  and  joined 
the  same  regiment. 

She  sought  out  her  brother,  and  in  a  private  inter- 
view made  herself  known  to  him.  Astonished  and 
grieved  at  the  step  she  had  taken  he  begged  her  to 
withdraw  from  the  army,  which  she  could  easily  do  hy 
disclosing  the  fact  of  her  true  sex.  She  remained 
firm  against  all  his  "affectionate  entreaties,  informing 
him  that  if  he  was  wounded  or  taken  sick  she  would 


1 


i) 


»i  ;. 


430 


WOMAN  IN  THE  ARMY. 


be  near  to  nurse  him,  and  in  case  o**  such  a  disaster 
she  would  reveal  her  secret  and  get  a  discharge  so  that 
she  could  attend  constantly  upon  him.  On  the  morn- 
ing of  the  battle  in  which  she  had  been  wounded  they 
had  met  for  the  last  time,  and,  as  they  well  knew 
the  battle  would  be  a  bloody  one,  agreed  that  each 
one  would  notify  the  other  of  their  respective  safety 
in  case  they  both  survived.  A  note  had  reached  her 
just  after  the  battle,  that  her  brother  was  safe,  and 
she  on  her  part  had  sent  a  message  to  him  that  she 
was  alive  and  well,  believing  that  she  would  recover, 
and  not  wishing  to  alarm  him  by  telling  the  truth. 
Since  that  time  she  had  heard  nothing  from  him,  and 
begged  with  streaming  eyes  that  the  lady  would  in^ 
quire  if  he  had  been  wounded  in  any  of  the  recent 
severe  battles.  The  lady  hastened  to  procure  the 
much  desired  information.  After  diligent  inquiries 
she  discovered  that  the  brother  had  been  shot  dead  in 
a  battle  which  occurred  the  day  following  that  in 
which  his  sister  had  been  wounded. 

The  good  lady,  sadly  afflicted  by  this  intelligence, 
and  fearing  its  effect  upon  the  invalid,  strove  to  assume 
a  cheerful  countenance  as  she  approached  the  couch. 
A  smile  of  almost  painful  sweetness  shone  on  the  face 
of  the  girl  soldier  when  she  first  glanced  at  the  serene 
face  of  the  lady  who  kindly  put  her  off  in  her  pene- 
trating inquiries,  but  could  not  avoid  showing  a  trace 
of  grief  and  anxiety  over  the  sad  message  with  which 
she  was  burdened. 

The  smile  slowly  faded  from  the  girl's  fare,  her  voice 
grew  tremulous,  her  questions  more  searching  and  di- 
rect. The  lady  tried  to  commence  to  break  the  sad 
truth  gently  to  her,  but  already  the  unfortunate  niai- 


THE  FRONTIER  OF  TODAY. 


431 


den  had  comprehended  the  fact.  Her  face  grew  a 
shade  paler,  then  flushed  ;  she  breathed  with  difficulty, 
tiny  raised  her  up,  a  crimson  stream  gushed  from  her 
lips,  and  an  instant  after  the  strong  heart  of  the  true 
and  loving  sister  was  still  for  ever. 


-♦-♦-♦- 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

ACliOSS  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

THE  frontier  of  to-day  is  on  the  plains  and  in  the 
mountains.  In  that  immense  territory  bounded 
by  the  Pacific  on  the  west,  and  on  the  east  by  a  line 
running  irregularly  from  the  sources  of  the  Red  River 
of  the  North  to  the  Platte,  one  hundred  miles  from 
Omaha,  and  thence  to  the  mouth  of  the  Brazos  in 
Texas,  wherever  a  settlement  is  isolated,  there  is  the 
frontier. 

Life  in  these  remote  regions  is  aifected,  of  course,  by 
external  surroundings.  The  same  is  true  of  the  pass- 
age of  the  pioneer  battalions  from  the  eastern  settle- 
ments through  the  country  westward.  The  mountain- 
frontier  presents,  both  to  the  settler  who  makes  her 
abode  there,  and  to  her  who  passes  through  its  wild 
pathways,  a  distinct  set  of  difficulties  and  dangers 
besides  those  which  are  incident  to  every  family  which 
Bettles  fjir  from  the  more  populous  districts. 

The  enormous  extent  of  the  mountain  region  can 
be  measured  in  linear  and  squary  miles ;  it  can  be 


w. 


i ' 


hiii 


ii 


432 


ACROSS  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 


bounded  roughly  by  the  Pacific  Ocean  and  the  foun- 
tains of  the  great  rivers  which  course  through  the 
Mississippi  valley ;  it  can  be  placed  before  the  eye  in 
an  astronomical  position  between  such  and  such  lati- 
tudes and  longitudes,  but  such  descriptions  convey  to 
the  mind  only  an  idea  which  is  quite  vague  and  gen- 
eral. When  we  say  that  one  hundred  and  fifty  states 
like  Connecticut,  or  twenty  states  like  New  York  or 
Illinois,  spread  over  that  infinitude  of  peaks  and  ranges, 
would  scarcely  cover  them,  we  gain  a  somewhat  more 
adequate  idea  of  their  extent.  But  it  is  only  by 
•  actually  traversing  this  wilderness  of  hills  and  moun- 
tains, east  and  west,  north  and  south,  that  we  can 
more  fully  comprehend  its  extent  and  the  difficultiea 
to  be  encountered  by  the  emigrant  who  crosses  it. 

A  straight  line  from  Cheyenne  on  the  east,  to  Place* 
at  the  foot  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  in  California,  is  eight 
hundred  and  fifty  miles;  by  the  shortest  traveled 
route  between  these  points  it  is  upward  of  one  thou- 
sand miles.  A  straight  line  from  the  same  point  in 
the  east  to  Oregon  City,  among  the  Cascade  Mountaina 
in  Oregon,  measures  nine  hundred  and  fifty  miles ;  by 
the  traveled  routes  it  is  more  than  twelve  hundred. 

Thirty  years  ago,  when  railroads  were  unknoAvn 
^est  of  Buffalo,  the  journey  by  ox-teams  across  the 
continent,  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  was  more 
than  three  thousand  miles,  ainl  might  occupy  from 
one  year  to  eighteen  months,  according  to  circum- 
stances. 

After  leaving  the  regions  where  roads  and  settle- 
ments made  their  march  comparatively  coinfoitalilo 
and  secure,  they  struck  boldly  across  the  plains,  fin'il- 
ing  rivers,  hewing  their  way  through  forests,  toiling 


I 


A  SUBLIME  SPECTACLE. 


433 


across  wide  tracks  of  desert,  destitute  of  food,  herbage, 
and  water,  until  they  reached  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
The  region  they  were  now  to  pass  through  had  been 
penetrated  by  scarcely  any  but  hunters,  fur  traders, 
soldiers,  and  missionaries.  It  was  to  the  peaceful 
settler  who  was  seeking  a  home,  a  terra  incognita^  an 
unknown  land.  Those  mountain  peaks  were  veiled  in 
clouds,  those  devious  labyrinthine  valleys  were  the 
abode  of  darkness.  The  awful  majesty  of  nature's 
works,  the  Titanic  wonder-shapes  which  God  hath 
wrought,  are  calculated  to  burden  the  imagination  and 
subdue  the  aspiring  soul  of  man  by  their  vastness. 
Those  mountain  heights,  seen  from  which  the  files  of 
travelers  passing  through  the  profound  defiles,  look 
like  insects;  the  relentless  sway  of  nature's  great 
forces — the  storm  roaring  through  the  gorges,  the 
flood  plunging  from  the  precipice  and  wearing  trenches 
a  thousand  feet  deep  in  the  flinty  rock;  the  walls 
which  rear  themselves  into  giant  ramparts  which 
human  power  can  never  scale;  the  wide  circles  of 
desolation,  where  hunger  and  thirst  have  their  do- 
main ;  such  spectacles  must  indeed  have  thrilled  the 
hearts,  awed  the  minds,  and  filled  the  imaginations  of 
the  early  pioneers  with  forebodings  of  difficulty  and 
danger. 

And  yet  the  actual  difficulties  encountered  by  the 
emigrants,  the  actual  toils,  dangers,  and  hardships 
endured  then  in  conquering  a  passage  through  and 
over  the  Rocky  Mountains  and  their  kindred  ranges, 
must  have  surpassed  the  anticipations  of  the  shrewdest 
forethought,  and  the  bodings  of  the  gloomiest  imagin- 
ation. Tongue  cannot  tell,  nor  pen  describe,  nor  hath 
it  entered  into  the  heart  of  the  eastern  home-dweller 


I 


; 


ii 


434 


ACROSS  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 


to  conceive  of  the  forlorn  and  terrible  stories  of  those 
early  mountain  passages.  We  may  wonder  whether 
the  fortunate  traveler  of  these  days,  who  is  whirled  up 
and  down  those  perilous  islopes  by  a  forty-ton  locomo- 
tive, often  looks  back  to  the  time  when  those  rickety 
wagons  and  lean  oxen  jogged  along,  drearily,  eight  or 
ten  miles  a  day  through  those  terrible  fastnesses,  or 
reverting  to  such  a  scene,  expends  upon  it  a  merited 
sympathy.  Noiv  a  seven  days'  journey  from  Manhat- 
tan to  the  Golden  Gate,  sitting  in  a  palace  car,  well 
fed  by  day,  well  rested  by  night,  scarcely  more 
fatigued  when  one  steps  on  the  streets  of  San  Fran- 
cisco than  by  a  day's  journey  on  horseback  in  the 
olden  time !  Then  a  year's  journey  in  the  emigrant 
wagon,  scantily  fed,  poorly  nourished  with  sleep,  foot* 
sore  and  haggard,  the  weary  emigrant  and  his  wife 
dragged  themselves  into  the  spot  in  the  valley  of  the 
Sacramento,  or  the  Columbia,  where  they  were  to 
commence  anew  their  homely  toils ! 

Who  can  sit  down  calmly,  and,  casting  his  eyes  back 
to  those  heroes  and  heroines — the  Rocky  Mountain 
pioneers — and  not  feel  his  heart  swell  with  pride  and 
gratitude !  Pride,  in  that,  as  an  American,  he  can 
count  such  men  and  women  among  his  countrymen ; 
gratitude,  in  that  he  and  the  whole  country  are  reaping 
fruits  from  their  heroic  courage,  fortitude,  and  enter- 
prise. Dangers  met  with  an  undaunted  heart,  hard- 
ships endured  with  unshrinking  fortitude,  trials  and 
sufferings  borne  with  cheerful  patience,  forgetfulness 
of  self,  devotion  and  sacrifice  for  others:  such,  in  brief 
words,  is  the  record  of  woman  in  those  first  journeys 
of  the  pioneers  who  crossed  the  continent  for  the  pur- 


A  WINTER  CAMP. 


435 


pose  of  making  liomes,  forming  communities,  and  build- 
ing states  on  the  Pacific  slope. 

Among  these  histories,  which  illustrate  most  clearly 
the  virtues  of  the  pioneer  women,  we  count  those 
which  display  her  battling  with  the  difficulties  of  the 
passage  through  the  mountains,  as  proving  that  the 
heroine  of  our  own  time  may  be  matched  with  those 
who  have  lived  before  her  in  any  age  or  clime.  One 
of  these  histories  runs  as  follows :  In  the  corps  of  pio- 
neers who,  in  1844,  were  pushing  the  outposts  of 
civilization  farther  towards  the  setting  sun,  was  a 
young  couple  who  left  Illinois  late  in  the  summer  of 
that  year,  and,  journeying  with  a  white-tilted  wagon, 
drawn  by  four  oxen,  crossed  the  Missouri  near  the  site 
of  old  Fort  Kearney,  and  moving  in  a  bee  line  over 
the  prairie,  early  in  November,  encamped  for  the  win- 
ter just  beyond  the  forks  of  the  Platte. 

A  low  cabin,  built  of  cotton- wood,  banked  up  with 
earth,  and  consisting  of  a  single  room,  which  contained 
their  furniture,  farming  utensils,  and  stores,  sufficed  as 
a  shelter  against  the  severe  winds  which  sweep  over 
those  plains  in  the  inclement  season ;  their  oxen,  not 
requiring  to  be  housed,  were  allowed  to  roam  at  large 
and  browse  upon  the  sweet  grass  which  remains  nour- 
ishing in  that  region  throughout  the  winter. 

At  that  period  immense  herds  of  bison  roved  through 
that  section,  and  in  a  few  days  after  the  arrival  of  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Hinman — for  this  was  their  name — they  had 
each  shot,  nliiiOKst  without  stirring  from  their  camp, 
three  fat  bi  ffalo  •  ows,  whose  flesh  was  dried  and  added 
to  their  win*  or'.'^  store.  A  supply  of  fresh  meat  was 
thus  near  at  liand,  and  for  five  weeks  they  fared 
sumptuously  on  buffalo  soup  and  ribs,  tender-loin  and 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


bi|Z8     |2.5 


ii& 


2.0 


1.8 


1.25  III  1.4      1.6 

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► 

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Hiotographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


33  WIST  MA)  ,    7REIT 

WIBSTIii.N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


IL 


436 


ACROSS  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 


marrow  bones,  roasted  with  succulent  tidbits  from  the 
hump,  and  tongue,  which,  with  boiled  Indian  meal, 
formed  the  staple  of  their  repasts. 

Both  Mr.  Hifiman  and  his  wife  were  scions  of  that 
hardy  stock  which  had,  even  before  the  Revolutionary- 
War,  set  out  from  Connecticut,  and,  cutting  their  way 
through  the  forest,  had  crossed  the  Alleghany  Moun- 
tains and  river,  and  pitched  their  camp  in  the  rich 
valley  of  the  Muskingum,  near  the  site  of  the  present 
city  of  Marietta.  Both  had  also  grown  up  amid  the 
surroundings  of  true  frontier  life,  and  were  endowed 
with  faculties,  as  well  as  fitted  by  experience,  t« 
engage  in  the  bold  enterprise  wherein  they  were  noA* 
embarked,  namely,  to  cross  the  Rocky  Mountains  with 
a  single  ox-team  and  establish  themselves  in  the  fertile 
vale  of  the  Willamette  in  Oregon. 

The  spare  but  well-knit  frame,  the  swarthy  skin,  tha 
prominent  features,  the  deep-set  eyes,  the  alert  and 
yet  composed  manner,  marked  in  them  the  true  type 
of  the  born  borderer.  To  these  physical  traits  were 
united  the  qualities  of  mind  and  heart  which  are 
equally  characteristic  of  the  class  to  which  they 
belonged ;  an  apparent  insensibility  to  fear,  a  capacity 
for  endurance  that  exists  in  the  moral  nature  rather 
than  in  the  body,  and  a  seK-reliance  that  never 
faltered,  formed  a  combination  which  fitted  them  to 
cope  with  the  difficulties  that  environed  their  perilous 
project. 

As  early  in  the  spring  of  1845  as  the  ground  would 
permit,  they  re-packed  their  goods  and  stores,  hung 
out  the  white  sails  of  their  prairie  schooner  and  pur- 
sued their  journey  up  the  north  fork  oi  the  Platte, 
crossed  the  Red  Buttes,  went  through  Devil's  Gate, 


FALLING  DOWN  A  PRECIPICE. 


437 


skirted  the  banks  of  the  Sweet  Water  River,  and  wind- 
ing through  the  great  South  Pass,  diverted  their  course 
to  the  north  in  the  direction  of  the  head-waters  of 
Snake  River,  which  would  guide  them  by  its  current 
to  the  Columbia. 

At  this  stage  in  their  journey  they  consulted  a  rough 
map  of  the  route  on  which  two  trails  were  laid  down, 
either  of  which  would  lead  to  the  stream  they  were 
seeking.  With  characteristic  boldness  they  chose  the 
shorter  and  more  difficult  trail. 

Following  its  tortuous  course  in  a  northwesterly 
direction  they  reached  a  point  where  the  path  was 
barely  wide  enough  for  the  wagon  to  pass,  and  was 
bounded  on  the  one  side  by  a  wall  of  rock  and  on  the 
other  by  a  ragged  precipice  descending  hundreds  of 
feet  into  a  dark  ravine. 

Here  Mrs.  Hinman  dismounted  from  her  seat  in  the 
wagon  to  assist  in  conducting  the  team  past  this  dan- 
gerous point.  Her  husband  stood  between  the  oxen 
and  the  precipice  when  the  hind  wheel  of  the  wagon 
slipped  on  a  smooth  stone,  the  vehicle  tilted  and  be- 
ing top-heavy  upset  and  was  precipitated  into  the 
abyss,  dragging  with  it  the  oxen  who,  in  their  fall,  car- 
ried down  Mr.  Hinman  who  stood  beside  the  wheel 
yoke. 

He  gave  a  loud  cry  as  he  fell,  and  gazing  horror- 
stricken  over  the  brink  Mrs.  Hinman  saw  him  bound- 
ing from  rock  to  rock  preceded  by  the  wagon  and 
oxen  which  rolled  over  and  over  till  they  disappeared 
from  view. 

In  the  awful  stillness  of  that  solitude  the  beating  of 
her  heart  became  audible  as  she  rapidly  reviewed  her 
terrible  situation,  and  taxed  her  mind  to  know  what 


438 


'ACROSS  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 


she  should  do.  Summoning  up  all  her  resolution  she 
ran  swiftly  along  the  edge  of  the  precipice  in  search 
of  a  place  where  she  could  descend,  in  the  hope  that  by 
some  rare  good  fortune  her  husband  might  have  sur- 
vived his  fall.  Half  a  mile  back  of  the  spot  Vt^here 
the  accident  occurred  she  found  a  more  gradual  de- 
scent into  the  ravine,  and  here,  by  swinging  herself 
from  bush  to  bush  she  managed  at  length  with  the  ut- 
most difficulty  and  danger  to  reach  the  bottom  of  the 
ravine,  but  could  find  there  no  trace  either  of  her  hus- 
band or  of  the  ox-team. 

Scanning  the  face  of  the  precipice  she  saw,  at  last, 
one  hundred  feet  above  her  the  wreck  of  the  wagon, 
and  the  bodies  of  the  oxen,  which  had  landed  upon  a 
projecting  ledge. 

At  great  risk  of  being  dashed  to  pieces,  she  suc- 
ceeded in  climbing  to  the  spot.  The  patient  beasts 
which  had  carried  them  so  far  upon  their  way  were 
crushed  to  a  jelly ;  among  the  remains  of  the  wagon 
scarcely  a  vestige'  appeared  of  the  furniture,  utensils, 
and  stores  with  which  it  was  laden.  She  marked  the 
track  it  had  made  in  its  descent,  and  digging  her  fin- 
gers and  toes  into  the  crevices  of  the  rock,  and  draw- 
ing herself  from  point  to  point  in  a  zigzag  course,  by 
means  of  bushes  and  projecting  stones,  she  sloAvly 
scaled  the  declivity  and  reached  a  narrow  ledge  some 
three  hundred  feet  from  the  ravine,  where  she  paused 
to  take  breath. 

A  low  moan  directed  her  eyes  to  a  clump  of  bushes 
some  fifty  feet  above  her,  and  there  she  caught  sight 
of  a  limp  arm  hanging  aniong  the  stunted  foliage. 
Climbing  to  the  spot  she  found  her  husband  breathing 
but  unconscious.     He  was  shockingly  bruised,  and  al- 


',f- 


A  WONDERFUL  RESCUE, 


439 


',F 


though  no  bbnes  had  been  broken,  the  purple  current 
trickling  slowly  from  his  mouth  showed  that  some  in- 
ternal organ  had  been  injured.  While  there  is  life 
there  is  hope.  If  he  could  be  placed  in  a  comfortable 
position  he  might  still  revive  and  live.  Feeling  in  his 
breast  pocket  she  found  a  leather  flask  filled  with 
whisky  with  which  she  bathed  his  face  after  pouring 
a  large  draught  down  his  throat.  In  a  few  moments 
he  revived  sufficiently  to  comprehend  his  situation. 

"Don't  leave  me,  Jane,"  whispered  the  suffering 
man,  "  I  shan't  keep  you  long."  It  was  unnecessary  to 
prefer  such  a  request  to  a  woman  who  had  gone 
through  such  perils  to  save  one  whom  she  loved  dearer 
than  life.  "  I'll  bring  you  out  safe  and  sound,  Jack," 
returned  she,  "  or  die  right  here  with  you." 

While  racking  her  brain  for  means  to  remove  him  fifty 
feet  lower  to  the  ledge  from  which  she  had  first  spied 
him,  a  welcome  sight  met  her  eye.  It  was  the  axe 
and  the  coil  of  rope  which  had  fallen  from  the  wagon 
during  its  descent,  and  now  lay  within  easy  reach. 
Passing  the  rope  several  times  around  his  body  so  as 
to  form  a  sling  she  cut  a  stout  bush,  and  trimming  it, 
made  a  stake  which  she  firmly  fastened  into  a  crevice, 
and  with  an  exertion  of  strength,  such  as  her  loving 
and  resolute  heart  could  have  alone  inspired  her  to 
put  forth,  she  extricated  him  from  his  position,  and 
laying  the  ends  of  the  rope  over  the  stake  gently  low- 
ered him  to  the  ledge,  and  gathering  moss  made  a  pil- 
low for  his  bleeding  head.  Then  descending  to  the 
spot  where  the  carcasses  of  the  oxen  lay  she  quickly 
flayed  one,  and  cutting  off  a  large  piece  of  flesh  she 
ransacked  the  wreck  of  the  wagon  and  found  a  blanket 
and  a  pot.    Returning  to  her  husband  she  kindled  a  fire, 


440 


ACROSS  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS, 


\ 


and  made  broth  with  some  water  which  she  found  in 
the  hollow  of  a  rock. 

Gathering  moss  and  lichens  she  made  a  comfortable 
couch  upon  the  rock,  and  gently  stretched  her  groan- 
ing patient  upon  it,  covering  him  with  the  blanket  for 
the  mountain  air  was  chill  even  in  that  August  after- 
noon. The  wounded  man's  breathing  grew  more  regu- 
lar, the  bloody  ooze  no  longer  flowed  from  his  white 
lips,  but  his  frame  was  still  racked  by  agonizing 
pains. 

The  hours  sped  away  as  the  devoted  wife  bent  over 
him ;  the  height  of  the  mountains  in  that  region  ma- 
terially shortens  the  day  to  such  as  are  in  the  valleys, 
but  though  the  sun  sets  early  behind  the  western  sum- 
mits twilight  lingers  long  after  his  departure.  When 
the  orb  of  day  had  disappeared,  Mrs.  H.  still  viewed 
with  wonder,  not  unmixed  with  fear,  the  savage  gran- 
deur of  the  mountains  which  lifted  their  heads  still 
glittering  in  the  passing  light;  and  gazing  into  the 
profound  below  she  watched  the  shades  as  they  deep- 
ened to  blackness. 

The  ledge  on  which  the  forlorn  pair  lay  was  barely 
four  feet  wide  and  less  than  ten  feet  long.  There,  on 
the  face  of  that  precipice,  one  hundred  miles  from  the 
nearest  settlement,  all  through  the  lonely  watches  of 
the  night,  the  strong-hearted  wife,  with  tear-dimmed 
eyes,  hung  over  the  suflerer.  Many  a  silent  prayer  in 
the  weary  hours  of  that  moonless  night  did  she  send 
up  to  the  Father  of  mercies.  Many  a  plan  for  bring- 
ing succor  or  for  alleviating  pain  on  the  morrow  did 
she  devise. 

Will-power  is  the  most  potent  factor  in  giving  a  sat- 
isfoctory  solution  of  the  problem  of  vitality.    Just  as 


GOING  fOR  HELP. 


441 


the  gray  light  was  shimmering  in  the  eastern  sky  the 
wounded  man  moaned  as  if  he  wished  to  speak.  His 
wife  understood  that  language  of  pain  and  weakness, 
and  placed  her  ear  to  his  lips.  "  I  won't  die,  Jane,"  he 
said  scarcely  above  a  whisper.  "  You  shan't  die,  Jack," 
was  the  reply.  A  great  hope  dawned  like  a  sun  upon 
her  as  those  four  magic  syllables  were  uttered. 

He  fell  into  a  doze,  and  when  he  woke  the  sun  was 
up.    "  Can  you  stay  here  all  alone  for  a  few  hours," 

inquired  Mrs.  H ,  after  feeding  her  patient,  "  I 

am  going  to  see  if  I  can  fetch  some  one  to  help  us  out 
of  this."  "  Go,"  he  answered.  Placing  the  flask  and 
broth  within  reach  of  her  husband,  and  kissing  him, 
fihe  sprang  up  the  acclivity  as  though  she  had  wings, 
reached  the  trail  and  sped  along  it  southward.  Fif- 
teen miles  would  bring  her  to  the  spot  where  the  two 
trails  met :  here  she  hoped  to  meet  some  wayfaring 
train  of  emigrants,  or  some  party  of  hunters  coursing 
through  the  defiles  of  the  mountains. 

Sooner  than  she  expected,  after  reaching  the  fork, 
her  wish  was  gratified.  In  less  than  half  an  hour  six 
hunters  came  up  with  her,  and,  hearing  her  story, 
three  of  them  volunteered  to  go  and  bring  her  hus- 
band to  their  cabin,  which  stood  half  a  mile  away 

from  the  trail.    A  horse  was  furnished  to  Mrs.  H , 

and  the  three  hunters  and  she  rode  rapidly  to  the 
Bcene  of  the  disaster. 

*  Skipping  down  the  declivity  like  chamois,  and  help- 
ing their  brave  companion,  who  was  now  quite  fatigued 
with  her  exertion,  they  reached  the  rocky  shelf  The 
mountain  air  and  the  delicious  consciousness  that  he 
would  live,  coupled  with  impUcit  confidence  in  the 
success  of  his  wife's  errand,  had  acted  like  a  charm 


j*i^ 


442 


ACROSS  THE  ROCKY  MOU.\TAINS. 


on  the  vigorous  organization  of  the  wounded  man, 
and  he  begged  that  he  might  be  immediately  re- 
moved. 

He  was  accordingly  carried  carefully  to  the  trail, 
and  placed  astride  of  one  of  the  horses  in  front  of 
one  of  the  hunters.  After  a  slow  march  of  four 
hours,  he  was  safely  stowed  in  the  cabin  of  the 
hunters,  wh'^re,  in  a  few  weeks,  he  entirely  recovered 
from  his  injuries. 

It  might  be  readily  supposed  after  such  a  grave 
experience  of  the  dangers  of  mountain  life,  that  our 
heroine  and  her  husband  would  have  been  inclined  to 
return  to  their  old  home  on  the  sunny  prairies  of 
Illinois.  On  the  contrary,  they  strongly  desired  to 
continue  the  prosecution  of  their  Oregon  enterprise, 
and  were  only  prevented  from  carrying  it  out  by  the 
lack  of  a  team  and  the  necessary  utensils,  etc. 

The  hunters,  learning  their  wishes,  returned  to  the 
scene  of  the  mishap,  and  scoured  the  side  of  the 
mountain  in  search  of  the  articles  which  had  been 
thrown  from  the  wagon  in  its  descent.  They  suC" 
ceeded  in  recovering  uninjured  a  large  number  of 
articles,  including  a  few  which  still  remained  in  the 
wrecked  vehicle.  Then  clubbing  together,  they  made 
up  a  purse  and  bought  two  pair  of  oxen  and  a  wagon 
from  a  passing  train  of  emigrants,  who  also  generously 
contributed  articles  for  the  use  and  comfort  of  the 
resolute  but  unfortunate  pair.  Such  deeds  of  charity 
are  habitual  with  the  men  and  women  of  the  frontier, 
and  the  farther  west  one  goes  the  more  spontaneously 
and  warmly  does  the  heart  bound  to  relieve  the  suffer- 
ings and  supply  the  wants  of  the  unfortunate,  particu- 
larly of  those  who  have  been  injured  or  reduced  while 


CHARITABLE  MOUNTAINEERS. 


44d 


i 


ir- 
u- 
le 


battling  with  the  hardships  and  dangers  incident  to  a 
wild  country.  The  more  rugged  the  region  on  our 
western  border,  the  more  boundless  becomes  the  sym- 
pathetic faculty  of  its  inhabitants.  Nowhere  is  a 
large  and  unselfish  charity  more  lavishly  exercised 
than  among  the  Rocky  Mountain  men  and  women. 
Free  as  the  breezes  that  sweep  those  towering  sum- 
mits, warm  as  the  sun  of  midsummer,  bright  as  the 
icy  peaks  which  lift  themselves  into  the  sky,  the  spirit 
of  loving-kindness  for  the  unfortunate  animates  the 
bosoms  of  the  sons  and  daughters  of  that  mountain 
land. 

After  wintering  with  their  hospitable  friends,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Hinman  pursued  their  journey  the  following 
spring,  and,  after  a  toilsome  march,  attended  by  no 
further  startling  incidents,  reached  their  destination 
in  Oregon. 

There  in  their  new  home,  which  Mrs.  H ,  by 

her  industry  and  watchfulness,  contributed  so  largely 
to  make,  they  found  ample  scope  for  the  exercise  of 
those  qualities  which  they  had  proved  themselves  to 
possess.  It  is  men  and  women  like  these  whom  we 
must  thank  for  building  up  our  empire  on  that  far 
off  coast. 

The  old  hunters  and  gold-seekers  in  that  region 
are  the  faithful  depositaries  of  the  mountain  legends 
respecting  the  adventures  of  the  early  emigrants,  and 
the  observers  and  annotators,  as  it  were,  of  the  pass- 
ages made  by  the  pioneers  in  later  times.  Around 
their  camp-fires  at  night,  when  their  repast  is  made 
and  their  pipes  lighted,  they  beguile  the  lonely 
hours  with  tales  of  dreadful  suffering,  or  of  hair- 
breadth escapes  from  danger,  or  of  heroism  displayed 


444 


ACROSS  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 


by  mountain  wayfarers.  This,  as  we  have  elsewhere 
remarked,  is  the  hunters'  pastime. 

While  a  hunting  party  were  once  threading  the 
defiles  of  the  mountain,  they  espied  below  them  in 
the  valley  certain  suspicious  signs.  Approaching  the 
spot,  they  discovered  that  a  train  of  emigrants  had 
been  attacked  by  the  savages,  their  wagons  robbed, 
their  oxen  killed,  a  number  of  the  party  massacred 
and  scalped,  and  the  rest  dispersed. 

One  of  the  hunters  proceeds  with  the  story  from 
this  point. 

"  Thirsting  for  a  speedy  revenge,  the  men  at  once 
divided.  With  Augur-eye  as  guide,  I  took  command 
of  the  detachment  who  had  to  search  the  river  bank ; 
the  old  Sergeant  commanded  the  scouting  party  told 
off  to  cross  the  ford  and  scour  the  timber  on  the  right 
side  of  the  river;  whilst  the  third  band  was  appro- 
priated to  the  Doctor.  The  weather  was  cold,  and 
the  iky,  thickly  covered  with  fleecy  clouds,  foreboded 
a  heavy  fall  of  snow.  The  wind  blew  in  fitful  gusts, 
and  seemed  to  chill  one's  blood  with  its  icy  breath,  as, 
sweeping  past,  it  went  whistling  and  sighing  up  the 
glen.  The  rattle  of  the  horses'  hoofs,  as  the  receding 
parties  galloped  over  the  turf,  grew  fainter  and  fainter, 
and  when  our  little  band  halted  on  a  sandy  reach, 
about  a  mile  up  the  river,  not  a  sound  was  audible, 
save  the  steady  rhythm  of  the  panting  horses  and  the 
noisy  rattle  of  the  stream,  as,  tumbling  over  the 
craggy  rocks,  it  rippled  on  its  course.  The  *  Tracker ' 
was  again  down ;  this  time  creeping  along  upon  the 
sand  on  his  hands  and  knees,  and  deliberately  and 
carefully  examining  the  marks  left  on  its  impressible 
surface,  which,  to  his  practiced  eye,  were  in  reality 


A  STARTLING  DISCOVERY. 


445 


Lnd 
ble 


letters,  nay,  even  readable  words  and  sentences.  As 
we  watched  this  tardy  progress  in  impatient  silence, 
suddenly,  as  if  stung  by  some  poisonous  reptile,  the 
Indian  sprang  upon  his  legs,  and,  making  eager  signs 
for  us  to  approach,  pointing  at  the  same  time  eagerly 
to  something  a  short  distance  beyond  where  he  stood. 
A  near  approach  revealed  a  tiny  hand  and  part  of  an 
arm  pushed  through  the  sand. 

"  At  first  we  imagined  the  parent,  whether  male  or 
female,  had  thus  roughly  buried  the  child — a  consola- 
tory assumption  which  Augur-eye  soon  destroyed. 
Scraping  away  the  sand  partially  hiding  the  dead  boy, 
he  placed  his  finger  on  a  deep  cleft  in  the  skull, 
which  told  at  once  its  own  miserable  tale.  This  dis- 
covery clearly  proved  that  the  old  guide  was  correct 
in  his  readings,  that  the  savages  were  following  up 
the  trail  of  the  survivors.  A  man  who  had  escaped 
and  just  joined  us,  appeared  so  utterly  terror-stricken 
at  this  discovery,  that  it  was  with  difficulty  he  could 
be  supported  on  his  horse  by  the  strong  troopers  who 
rode  beside  him.  We  tarried  not  for  additional  signs, 
but  pushed  on  with  all  possible  haste.  The  trail  was 
rough,  stony,  and  over  a  ledge  of  basaltic  rocks,  ren- 
dering progression  not  only  tedious,  but  difficult  and 
dangerous;  a  false  step  of .  the  horse,  and  the  result 
might  have  proved  fatal  to  the  rider.  The  guide 
spurs  on  his  Indian  mustang,  that  like  a  goat  scram- 
bles over  the  craggy  track ;  for  a  moment  or  two  he 
disappears,  being  hidden  by  a  jutting  rock ;  we  hear 
him  yell  a  sort  of  '  war-whoop,'  awakening  the  echoes 
in  the  encircling  hills ;  reckless  of  falling,  we  too  spur 
on,  dash  round  the  splintered  point,  and  sUde  rather 
than  canter  down  a  shelving  bank,  to  reach  a  second 


446 


ACROSS  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 


sand-beach,  over  •which  the  guide  is  galloping  and 
shouting.  We  can  see  the  fluttering  garments  of  a 
girl,  who  is  running  with  all  her  might  towards  the 
pine  trees ;  she  disappears  amongst  the  thick  foliage  of 
the  underbrush  ere  the  guide  can  come  up  to  her,  but 
leaping  from  off  his  horse,  he  follows  her  closely,  and 
notes  the  spot  wherein  she  has  hidden  herself  amidst 
a  tangle  of  creeping  vines  and  maple  bushes.  He 
awaited  our  coming,  and,  motioning  us  to  surround 
the  place  of  concealment  quickly,  remained  still  as  a 
statue  whilst  we  arranged  our  little  detachment  so  as 
to  preclude  any  chance  of  an  escape.  Then  gliding 
noiselessly  as  a  reptile  through  the  bushes,  he  wa? 
soon  hidden.  It  appeared  a  long  time,  although  net 
more  than  a  few  minutes  had  elapsed  from  our  losing 
sight  of  hii.i,  until  a  shrill  cry  told  us  something  was 
discovered.  Dashing  into  the  midst  of  the  underbrush, 
a  strange  scene  presented  itself.  The  hardy  troopers 
seemed  spell-bound,  neither  was  I  the  less  astonished. 
Huddled  closely  together,  and  partially  covered  with 
branches,  crouched  two  women  and  the  little  girl  whose 
flight  had  led  to  this  unlooked-for  discovery.  In  a 
state  barely  removed  from  that  of  nudity,  the  un- 
happy trio  strove  to  hide  themselves  from  the  many 
staring  eyes  which  were  fixed  upon  them,  not  for  the 
purpose  of  gratifying  an  indecent  curiosity,  but  simply 
because  no  one  had  for  the  moment  realized  the  con- 
dition in  which  the  unfortunates  were  placed.  Soon, 
however,  the  fact  was  evident  to  the  soldiers  that  the 
women  were  nearly  unclad,  and  all  honor  to  their 
rugged  goodness,  they  stripped  off  their  thick  top- 
coats, and  throwing  them  to  the  trembling  females, 
turned  every  one  away  and  receded  into  the  bush.     It 


WOMEN  IS  HIDING.  44  "^ 

was  enough  that  the  faces  of  the  men  were  white  which 
had  presented  themselves  so  unexpectedly.  The  des- 
titute fugitives,  assured  that  the  savages  had  not  again 
discovered  them,  hastily  wrapped  themselves  in  the 
coats  of  the  soldiers,  and,  rushing  out  from  their  lair, 
knelt  down,  and  clasping  their  arms  round  my  knees, 
poured  out  thanks  to  the  Almighty  for  their  deliver- 
ance with  a  fervency  and  earnestness  terrible  to  wit- 
ness. I  saw,  on  looking  round  me,  ;  \  reaming  drops 
trickling  over  the  sunburnt  faces  of  many  of  the  men, 
whose  iron  natures  it  was  not  on  ly  to  disturb  under 
ordinary  circumstances. 

.  "  It  was  soon  explained  to  the  fugitives  that  they 
were  safe,  and  as  every  hour's  delay  was  a  dangerous 
waste  of  time,  the  rescued  women  and  child  were  as 
carefully  clad  in  the  garments  of  the  men  as  circuiu- 
etances  permitted,  anr"  placed  on  horses,  with  a  hunter 
riding  on  either  side  to  support  them.  Thus  reinforced, 
the  cavalcade,  headed  by  Augur-eye,  moved  slowly 
back  to  the  place  where  we  had  left  the  pack-train 
encamped,  with  all  the  necessary  supplies.  I  lingered 
behind  to  examine  the  place  wherein  the  women  had 
concealed  themselves.  The  boughs  of  the  vine-maple, 
together  with  other  slender  shrubs  constituting  the 
underbrush,  had  been  rudely  woven  together,  forming, 
at  best,  but  a  very  ineflicient  shelter  from  the  wind, 
which  swept  in  freezing  currents  through  the  valley. 
Had  it  rained,  they  must  soon  have  been  drenched,  or 
if  snow  had  fallen  heavily,  the  '  wickey '  house  and  its 
occupants  soon  would  have  been  buried.    How  had 

^if  they  existed  ?     This  was  a  question  I  was  somewhat 
puzzled  to  answer. 

'  '     '  "On  looking  round  I  observed  a  man's  coat,  pushed 


!;n 


III 

'li' 


\it 


448 


ACROSS  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 


away  under  some  branches,  and  on  the  few  smoulder- 
ing embers  by  which  the  women  had  been  sitting  when 
the  child  rushed  in  and  told  of  our  coming,  was  a  small 
tin  pot  with  a  cover  on  it,  the  only  utensil  visible. 
Whilst  occupied  in  making  the  discoveries  I  was  sick- 
ened by  a  noisome  stench,  which  proceeded  from  the 
dead  body  of  a  man,  carefully  hidden  by  branches, 
grass,  and  moss,  a  short  distance  from  the  little  cage 
of  twisted  boughs.  Gazing  on  the  dead  man  a  suspi- 
cion too  revolting  to  mention  suddenly  flashed  upon 
me.  Turning  away  saddened  and  horror-stricken,  J 
returned  to  the  cage  and  removed  the  cover  from  the 
saucepan,  the  contents  of  which  confirmed  my  worst 
fears.  Hastily  quitting  the  fearful  scene,  the  like  of 
which  I  trust  never  to  witness  again,  I  mounted  my 
horse  and  galloped  after  the  party,  by  this  time  soma 
distance  ahead. 

"  Two  men  and  the  guide  were  desired  to  find  the 
spot  where  the  scouting  parties  were  to  meet  each 
other,  and  to  bring  them  with  all  speed  to  the  mule 
camp.  It  was  nearly  dark  when  we  reached  our  des- 
tination, the  sky  looked  black  and  lowering,  the  wind 
appeared  to  be  increasing  in  force,  and  small  particles 
of  half-frozen  rain  drove  smartly  against  our  faces, 
telling  in  pretty  plain  language  of  the  coming  snow- 
fall. Warm  tea,  a  good  substantial  meal,  and  suitable 
clothes,  which  had  been  sent  in  case  of  need  by  the 
officers'  wives  stationed  at  the  'Post,*  worked  won- 
ders in  the  way  of  restoring  bodily  weakness  j  but  the 
shock  to  the  mental  system  time  alone  could  alleviate. 
I  cannot  say  I  slept  much  during  the  night.  Anxiety 
lest  we  might  be  snowed  in,  and  a  fate  almost  as  terri- 
ble as  that  from  which  we  had  rescued  the  poor  women, 


ADVENTURE  OF  MISS  RIKER. 


449 


the 
iate. 
iety 
jrri- 


len, 


should  be  the  lot  of  all,  sat  upon  me  like  a  nightmare. 
More  than  this,  the  secret  I  had  discovered  seemed  to 
pall  every  sefise  and  sicken  me  to  the  heart,  and 
throughout  the  silent  hours  of  the  dismal  dprkness  I 
passed  in  review  the  ghostly  pageant  of  the  fight  and 
all  its  horrors,  the  escape  of  the  unhappy  survivors, 
the  finding  of  the  murdered  boy  and  starving  women, 
and  more  than  all — the  secret  I  had  rather  even  now 
draw  a  veil  over,  and  leave  to  the  imagination." 

A  fugitive  woman  in  the  wilds  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains is  indeed  an  object  of  pity ;  but  when  she  boldly 
faces  the  dangers  that  surround  her  in  such  a  position, 
and  succeeds  by  her  courage,  endurance,  and  ingenu- 
ity in  holding  her  own,  and  finally  extricating  herself 
from  the  perils  by  which  she  is  environed,  she  may 
fairly  challenge  our  admiration.  Such  a  woman  was 
Miss  Janette  Riker,  who  proved  how  strong  is  the 
spirit  of  self-reliance  which  animates  the  daughters  of 
the  border  under  circumstances  calculated  to  daunt 
arid  depress  the  stoutest  heart. 

Tlie  Riker  family,  consisting  of  Mr.  Riker,  his  two 
sons,  and  his  daughter  Janette,  passed  through  the 
Dacotah  country  in  1849,  and  late  in  September  had 
penetrated  to  the  heart  of  the  mountains  in  the  terri- 
tory now  known  as  Montana.  Before  pursuing  their 
journey  from  this  point  to  their  destination  in  Oregon, 
they  encamped  for  three  days  in  a  well-grassed  valley 
for  the  purpose  of  resting  their  cattle,  and  adding  to 
their  stock  of  provisions  a  few  buffalo-humps  and 
toiigues.  . 

On  the  second  day  after  their  arrival  at  this  spot, 
the  father  and  his  two  sons  set  out  on  their  buffalo 
hunt  with  the  expectation  of  returning  before  night- 
29 


4 


r 


Hi 


i:: 


450  ACROSS  THE  ROCKY  FOUNTAINS. 

fall.  But  the  sun  set  and  darkness  came  'without 
bringing  them  back  to  the  lonely  girl,  who  in  sleepless 
anxiety  awaited  their  return  all  night  seated  beneath 
the  white  top  of  the  Conestoga  wagon.  At  early 
dawn  she  started  on  their  trail,  which  she  followed  for 
several  miles  to  a  deep  gorge  where  she  lost  all  trace 
of  the  wanderers,  and  was  after  a  long  and  unavailing 
search  compelled  in  the  utmost  grief  and  distraction 
of  mind,  to  return  to  the  camp. 

For  a  week  she  spent  her  whole  time  in  seeking  to 
find  some  trace  of  her  missing  kinsmen,  but  without 
success.  As  the  lonely  maiden  gazed  at  the  mighty 
walls  which  frowned  upon  her  and  barred  her  egress 
east  and  west  from  her  prison-house,  hope  died  away 
in  her  heart,  and  she  prayed  for  speedy  death.  This 
mood  was  but  momentary ;  the  love  of  life  soon  as- 
serted its  power,  and  she  cast  about  her  for  some 
means  whereby  she  could  either  extricate  herself 
from  her  perilous  situation,  or  at  least  prolong  her 
existence. 

.  To  attempt  to  find  her  way  over  the  mountains 
seemed  to  her  impossible.  Her  only  course  was  to 
provide  a  shelter  against  the  winter,  and  stay  where 
she  was  until  discovered  by  some  passing  hunters,  or 
by  Indians,  whom  she  feared  less  than  an  existence 
spent  in  such  a  solitude  and  surrounded  by  so  many 
dangers. 

Axes  and  spades  among  the  farming  implements  in 
the  wagon  supplied  her  with  the  necessary  tools,  and 
by  dint  of  assiduoys  labor,  to  which  her  frame  had 
long  been  accustomed,  she  contrived  to  build,  in  a  few 
weeks,  a  rude  hut  of  poles  and  small  logs.  Stuffing 
the  interstices  with  dried  grass,  and  banking  up  the 


BURIED  IN  SNOW. 


451 


s  in 
and 
had 
few 
ing 
I  the 


earth  around  it,  she  threw  over  it  the  wagon-top, 
which  she  fastened  firmly  to  stakes  driven  in  the 
ground,  and  thus  provided  a  shelter  tolerably  rain- 
tight and  weather-proof. 

Thither  she  conveyed  the  stoves  and  other  contents 
of  the  wagon.  The  oxen,  straying  through  the  valley, 
fattened  themselves  on  the  sweet  grass  until  the  snow 
fell ;  she  then  slaughtered  and  flayed  the  fattest  one.  and 
cutting  up  the  carcase,  packed  it  away  for  winter's  use. 
Dry  logs  and  limbs  of  trees,  brought  together  and 
chopped  up  with  infinite  labor,  sufficed  to  keep  her  in 
fuel.  Although  for  nearly  three  months  she  was  almost 
completely  buried  in  the  snow,  she  managed  to  keep 
alive  and  reasonably  comfortable  by  making  an  orifice 
for  the  smoke  to  escape,  and  digging  out  fuel  from  the 
drift  which  covered  her  wood-pile.  Her  situation  was 
truly  forlorn,  but  still  preferable  to  the  risk  of  being 
devoured  by  wolves  or  mountain  lions,  which,  attract- 
ed by  the  smell  of  the  slaughtered  ox,  had  begun  to 
prowl  around  her  shelter  before  the  great  snow  fall, 
but  were  now  unable  to  reach  her  beneath  the  snowy 
bulwarks.  She  suffered  more,  however,  from  the 
effect  of  the  spring  thaw  which  flooded  her  hut 
with  water  and  forced  her  to  shift  her  quarters  to 
the  wagon,  which  she  covered  with  the  cotton  top, 
after  removing  thither  her  blankets  and  provisions. 
The  valley  was  overflowed  by  the  melting  of  the 
snows,  and  for  two  weeks  she  was  unabfe  to  build  a 
fire,  subsisting  on  uncooked  Indian  meal  and  raw  beef, 
which  she  had  salted  early  in  the  winter. 

Late  in  April,  she  was  found  in  the  last  stages  of 
exhaustion,  by  a  party  of  Indians,  who  kindly  relieved 
her  wants  and  carried  her  across  the  mountains  with 


K 

w 


452 


ACROSS  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 


her  household  goods,  and  left  her  at  the  Walla  Walla 
station.  This  act  on  the  part  of  the  savages,  who 
were  a  wild  and  hostile  tribe,  was  due  to  their  admira- 
tion for  the  hardihood  of  the  "  young  white  squaw," 
who  had  maintained  herself  through  the  rigors  of  the 
winter  and  early  spring  in  that  awful  solitude — a  feat 
which,  they  said,  none  of  their  own  squaws  would 
have  dared  perform.  The  fate  of  her  father  and 
brothers  was  never  ascertained,  though  it  was  conjec- 
tured that  they  had  either  lost  their  way  or  had  fallen 
from  a  precipice. 

Miss  Riker  afterwards  married,  and,  as  a  pioneei 
wife,  found  a  sphere  of  usefulness  for  which  her  high 
qualities  of  character  admirably  fitted  her. 

Among  the  most  authentic  histories  of  these  banda 
of  early  pioneers  which  undertook  to  make  the  pas- 
sage of  this  regio.i  thirty  years  since,  when  it  involved 
such  difficulties  and  dangers,  is  the  following : 

In  the  year  1846,  soon  after  the  commencement  of 
the  Mexican  War,  a  party  of  emigrants  undertook  to 
cross  the  Continent,  with  the  intention  of  settling  on 
the  Pacific  coast.  The  party  consisted  of  J.  F.  Reed, 
wife,  and  four  children ;  Jacob  Donner,  wife,  and  seven 
children ;  William  Pike,  wife,  and  two  children ;  Wil- 
liam Foster,  wife,  and  one  child ;  Lewis  Kiesburg,  wife, 
and  one  child;  Mrs.  Murphy,  a  widow  woman,  and 
five  children ;  William  McCutcheon,  wife,  and  one 
child ;  W.  m  Eddy,  wife,  and  two  children;  W.  Graves, 
wife,  and  eight  children ;  Jay  Fosdicks,  and  his  wife ; 
John  Denton,  Noah  James,  Patr'ck  Dolan,  Samuel 

Shoemaker,  C.  F.  Stanton,  Milton  Elliot,  Smith, 

Joseph  Rianhard,  Augustus  Spized,  John  Baptiste, 
Antoine,  Herring,  Hallerin,  Charles 


WOMEN  AND  CHILDREN  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS.      453 

Burger,  and  Baylie  Williams,  making  a  total  of  sixty- 
five  souls,  of  whom  ten  were  women,  and  thirty-one 
were  children. 

Having  supplied  themselves  with  wagons,  horses, 
cattle,  provisions,  arms,  ammunition,  and  other  articles 
requisite  for  their  enterprise,  they  set  out  on  their 
journey  from  the  Mississippi,  and,  after  a  toilsome 
march  of  many  weeks  across  the  prairies,  they  reached, 
late  in  the  summer  of  that  year,  the  foot-hills  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains.  Resting  for  a  few  days  in  a  grassy 
valley,  and,  gazing  with  wistful  eyes  on  the  mighty 
peaks  which  towered  beyond  them,  they  girded  up 
their  loins  for  the  novel  toils  and  perils  they  were 
woon  to  encounter,  and  pushed  on,  expecting  to  follow 
the  great  military  route  which  would  conduct  them, 
before  the  winter  snows,  to  the  sunny  slopes  which 
are  fanned  by  the  breezes  of  the  peaceful  ocean. 

They  reached  the  Sweet- Water  Riyer,  on  the  east- 
ern side  of  the  mountains,  iate  in  August.  While  in 
camp  there,  they  were  induced,  by  the  representations 
of  one  Lansford  W.  Hastings,  to  take  a  new  route  to 
the  Pacific  coast.  Relying  on  the  truth  of  these  state- 
ments, and  full  of  hope  that  they  would  thus  shorten 
their  journey,  they  left  the  beaten  track  and  started 
onward  tbrou  h  an  unknown  region.  Long  before 
they  had  reached  the  valley  of  the  Great  Salt  Lake, 
they  began  to  encounter  the  greatest  difficulties.  At 
one  time  they  found  themselves  in  a  dense  forest,  and, 
seeing  no  outlet  or  passage,  were  forced  to  cut  their 
way  through,  making  only  forty  miles  progress  in 
thirty  days. 

In  September,  they  were  passing  through  the  Utah 
Valley,  since  occupied  by  the  Mormons.    Here  death 


t: 


454 


ACROSS  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 


invaded  their  ranks,  and  removed  Mr.  Hallerin.  This 
and  an  accident  to  one  of  the  wagons,  detained  them 
two  days. 

Pursuing  their  march,  they  were  next  forced  to 
travel  across  a  desert  tract  without  grass  or  water, 
and  lost  many  cattle. 

At  this  point  of  the  journey,  the  gloomiest  forebod- 
ings seized  the  stoutest  heart.  They  were  in  a  rugged 
and  desolate  region,  far  from  all  hope  of  succor, 
surrounded  by  hostile  Indians,  their  cattle  dying,  and 
their  stock  of  provisions  lessening  rapidly,  with  the 
sad  conviction  hourly  forcing  itself  upon  their  minds, 
that  they  had  been  betrayed  by  one  of  their  own 
countrymen. 

Some  of  the  families  had  already  been  completely 
ruined  by  the  loss  of  their  cattle  and  by  being  forced 
to  abandon  their  goods  and  property.  They  were  in 
complete  darkness  as  to  the  character  of  the  road 
before  them.  To  retreat  across  the  desert  to  Bridger, 
was  impossible.  There  was  no  way  left  to  them  but 
to  advance ;  and  this  they  now  regarded  as  perilous 
in  the  extreme.  The  cattle  that  survived  were  ex- 
hausted and  broken  down ;  but  to  remain  there  was 
to  die.  Some  of  the  men,  broken  by  their  toils  and 
sufferings,  lay  down  and  declared  they  might  as  well 
die  there  as  further  on ;  others  cursed  the  deception 
of  which  they  had  been  the  victims ;  others  uttered 
silent  prayers,  and  then  sought  to  raise  the  drooping 
spirits  of  their  comrades,  and  encourage  them  to  press 
forward.  Of  these  last  were  the  females  of  the  party 
— wives,  who  never  faltered  in  these  hours  of  trial, 
but  sustained  their  husbands  in  their  dark  moods  3  and 


A  DESPERATE  SITUATION. 


455 


»ss 


mothers,  who  fought  the  dreadful  battle,  thinkmg 
more  of  their  children  than  of  themselves. 

Once  more  the  party  resumed  their  journey,  but 
only  to  meet  fresh  disasters. 

"Thirty-six  head  of  working  cattle  were  lost,  and 
the  oxen  that  survived  were  greatly  injured.  One  of 
Mr.  Reed's  wagons  was  brought  to  camp;  and  two, 
with  all  they  contained,  were  buried  in  the  plain. 
George  Donner  lost  one  wagon.  Kiesburg  also  lost  a 
wagon.  The  atmosphere  was  so  dry  upon  the  plain, 
that  the  wood-work  of  all  the  wagons  shrank  to  a 
degree  that  made  it  next  to  impossible  to  get  any  of 
them  through. 

Having  yoked  some  loose  cows,  as  a  team  for  Mr. 
Reed,  they  broke  up  their  camp,  on  the  morning  of 
September  16th,  and  resumed  their  toilsome  journey, 
with  feelings  which  can  be  appreciated  by  those  only 
who  have  traveled  the  road  under  somewhat  similar 
circumstances.  On  this  day  they  traveled  six  miles, 
encountering  a  very  severe  snow  storm.  About  three 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  they  met  Milton  Elliot  and 
William  Graves,  returning  from  a  fruitless  effort  to 
find  some  cattle  that  had  strayed  away.  They  in- 
formed them  that  they  were  in  the  immediate  vicinity 
of  a  spring." 

This  spring  they  succeeded  in  reaching,  and  there 
they  encamped  for  the  night.  At  the  early  dawn, 
on  September  17th,  they  resumed  their  journey, 
and,  at  four  o'clock  a.  m.  of  the  18th,  they  arrived 
at  water  and  grass,  some  of  their  cattle  having  mean- 
while perished,  and  the  teams  whicii  survived  being  in 
a  very  enfeebled  condition.  Here  the  most  of  the  little 
property  which  Mr.  Reed  still  had  was  burned,  or 


456 


ACROSS  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 


cached^  together  with  that  of  others.  Mr.  Eddy  now 
proposed  putting  his  team  on  Mr.  Reed's  wagon,  and 
letting  Mr.  Pike  have  his  wagon  so  that  the  three 
families  could  be  taken  on.  This  was  done.  They 
remained  in  camp  during  the  day  of  the  18th,  to 
complete  these  arrangements,  and  to  recruit  their 
exhausted  cattle. 

The  journey  was  continued  with  scarcely  any  inter- 
ruption or  accident,  until  the  first  of  October,  when 
some  Indians  stole  a  yoke  of  oxen  from  Mr.  Graves. 
Other  thefts  followed,  and  it  became  evident  that  the 
party  would  suffer  severely  from  the  hostility  of  the 
Indians. 

A  large  number  of  cattle  were  stolen  or  shot  by 
the  merciless  marauders.  The  women  were  kept  in  a 
perpetual  state  of  alarm  by  the  proximity  of  the  sav- 
ages. Maternal  love  and  anxiety  for  those  thirty-one 
innocent  children  now  exposed  to  captivity  and  death 
at  the  hands  of  the  prowling  redskins,  made  the  lives 
of  those  unfortunate  matrons  one  long,  sad  vigil.  They 
could  meet  death  locked  in  the  fastnesses  of  the  moun- 
tains, or  in  the  desolate  plain ;  they  could  even  lay 
the  remains  of  those  dear  to  them,  far  from  home,  in 
the  darkest  canon  of  those  terrible  mountains,  but 
the  thought  of  seeing  their  children  torn  from  their 
embrace  and  borne  into  a  barbarous  captivity,  was  too 
much  for  their  woman's  natures.  The  camp  was  the 
scene  of  tears  and  mourning  from  an  apprehension 
more  dreadful  even  than  real  sufferings. 

The  fear  of  starvation,  also,  at  this  stage  in  their 
journey,  began  to  be  felt.  An  account  was  taken  of 
their  stock  of  provisions,  and  it  was  found  that  they 


TUE  GRIM  SPECTER  OF  STARVATION. 


457 


would  last  only  a  few  weeks  longer,  and  that  only  by 
putting  the  party  on  allowances. 

Here,  again,  the  self-sacrificing  spirit  that  woman 
always  shows  in  hours  of  trial,  shone  out  with  surpass- 
ing brightness.  Often  did  those  devoted  wives  and 
mothers  take  from  their  own  scanty  portion  to  satisfy 
the  cravings  of  their  husbands  and  children. 

For  some  weeks  after  the  19th  of  October,  1846, 
the  forlorn  band  moved  slowly  on  their  course  through 
those  terrible  mountains.  Sometimes  climbing  steeps 
which  the  foot  of  white  man  had  never  before  scaled, 
sometimes  descending  yawning  canons,  where  a  single 
misstep  would  have  plunged  them  into  the  abyss  hun- 
dreds of  feet  below.  The  winter  fairly  commenced  in 
October.  The  snow  was  piled  up  by  the  winds  into 
drifts  in  some  places  forty  feet  deep,  through  which 
they  had  to  burrow  or  dig  their  way.  A  sudden  rise 
in  the  temperature  converted  the  snow  into  slush,  and 
forced  them  to  wade  waist  deep  through  it,  or  lie 
drenched  to  the  skin  in  their  wretched  camp. 

One  by  one  their  cattle  had  given  out,  and  their 
only  supply  of  meat  was  from  the  chance  game  which 
crossed  their  track.  At  last  their  entire  stock  of  pro- 
visions was  exhausted,  and  they  stood  face  to  face 
with  the  grim  specter  of  starvation.  They  had  now 
encamped  in  the  mountains,  burrowing  in  the  deep 
snow,  or  building  rude  cabins,  which  poorly  sufficed 
to  ward  off  the  biting  blast,  and  every  day  their  con- 
dition was  growing  more  pitiable. 

On  the  4  th  of  January,  1847,  Mr.  Eddy,  seeing  that 
all  would  soon  perish  unless  food  were  quickly  ob- 
tained, resolved  to  take  his  gun  and  press  forward 
alone.     He  informed  the  party  of  his  purpose.     They 


458 


ACROSS  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 


besought  him  not  to  leave  them.  But  some  of  the 
women,  recognizing  the  necessity  of  his  expedition, 
and  excited  by  the  feeble  wails  of  their  perishing 
children,  bade  him  God-speed.  One  of  them,  Mary, 
Graves,  who  had  shown  an  iron  nerve  and  endurance 
all  through  their  awful  march,  insisted  that  she  would 
accompany  him  or  perish.  The  two  accordingly  set 
forward.  Mr.  Eddy  soon  afterwards  had  the  good  for- 
tune to  shoot  a  deer,  and  the  couple  made  a  hearty 
meal  on  the  entrails  of  the  animal. 

The  next  day  several  of  the  party  came  up  with 
them,  and  feasted  on  the  carcass  of  the  deer.  Their 
number  during  the  preceding  night  had  again  been 
lessened  by  the  death  of  Jay  Fosdicks.  The  survivors, 
somewhat  refreshed,  returned  to  their  camp  on  the 
following  day.  .  » 

The  Indians  Lewis  and  Salvadore,  being  threatened 
with  death  by  the  famished  emigrants,  had  some  days 
before  stolen  away.  After  the  deer  had  been  con- 
sumed, and  while  Mr.  Eddy's  party  were  returning  to 
camp,  they  fell  upon  the  tracks  of  these  fugitives; 
Foster,  who  was  at  times  insane  through  his  sufferings, 
followed  the  trail  and  overtook  and  killed  them  both. 
He  cut  the  flesh  from  their  bones  and  dried  it  for  fu- 
ture use.  Mr.  Eddy  and  a  few  of  the  party,  in  their 
wanderings,  si  length  reached  an  Indian  village,  where 
their  immediate  sufferings  were  relieved. 

The  government  of  California  being  informed  of  the 
imminent  peril  of  the  emigrants  in  the  mountain 
camp,  took  measures  to  send  out  relief,  and  a  number 
of  inhabitants  contributed  articles  of  clothing  and  pro- 
visions. Two  expeditions,  however,  failed  to  cross  the 
mountains  in  consequence  of  the  depth  of  the  snow. 


THE  SUCCORING  PARTTS  ARRIVAL. 


459 


At  length,  a  party  of  seven  men,  headed  by  Aquilla 
Glover,  and  accompanied  by  Mr.  Eddy,  who,  though 
weak,  insisted  on  returning  to  ascertain  the  fate  of  his 
beloved  wife  and  children,  succeeded  in  crossing  the 
mountains  and  reaching  the  camp. 

The  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun  were  fading  from 
the  mountain-tops  as  the  succoring  party  arrived  at 
the  camp  of  the  wanderers.  All  was  silent  as  the 
grave.  The  wasted  forms  of  some  of  the  wretched 
sufferers  were  reposing  on  beds  of  snow  outside  the 
miserable  shelters  which  they  had  heaped  up  to  pro- 
tect them  from  the  bitter  nights.  When  they  heard 
the  shouts  of  the  new  comers,  they  feebly  rose  to  a 
sitting  posture  and  glared  wildly  at  them.  Women 
with  faces  that  looked  like  death's  heads  were  clasping 
tu  their  hollow  bosoms  children  which  had  wasted  to 
«keletons. 

Slowly  the  perception  of  the  purpose  for  which 
their  visitors  had  come,  dawned  upon  their  weakened 
hitellects ;  tney  smiled,  they  gibbered,  they  stretched 
out  their  bony  arms  and  hurrahed  in  hollow  tones. 
Some  began  to  stamp  and  rave,  invoking  the  oitterest 
curses  upon  the  mountains,  the  snow,  and  on  the  name 
of  Lansford  W.  Hastings ;  others  wept  and  bewailed 
their  sad  fate ;  the  women  alone  showed  firmness  and 
self-possession  ;  they  fell  down  and  prayed,  thanking 
God  for  delivering  them  from  a  terrible  fate,  and  im- 
ploring His  blessing  upon  those  who  had  come  to  their 
relief. 

Upon  going  down  into  the  cabins  of  this  mountain 
camp,  the  party  were  presented  with  sights  of  woe 
and  scenes  of  horror,  the  full  tale  of  which  never  will 
and  never  should  be  toldj  sights  which,  although  the 


460  ACROSS  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS.  ; 

emigrants  had  not  yet  commenced  eating  the  dead, 
were  so  revolting  that  they  were  compelled  to  with- 
draw and  make  a  fire  where  they  wovld  not  be  under 
the  necessity  of  looking  upon  the  painful  spectacle. 

Fourteen,  nearly  all  men,  had  actually  perished  of 
hunger  and  cold.  The  remnant  were  in  a  condition 
beyond  the  power  of  language  to  describe,  or  even  of 
the  imagination  to  conceive.  A  spectacle  more  appal- 
ling Was  never  presented  in  the  annals  of  human 
suffering.  For  weeks  many  of  the  sufferers  had  been 
living  on  bullocks*  hides,  and  even  more  loathsome 
food,  and  some,  in  the  agonies  of  hunger,  were  about 
to  dig  up  the  bodies  of  their  dead  companions  for  the 
purpose  of  prolonging  their  own  wretched  existence. 

The  females  showed  that  fertility  of  resource  for 
which  woman  is  so  remarkable  in  trying  crises.  Mrs. 
Reed,  who  lived  in  Brinn's  snow-cabin,  had,  during  a 
considerable  length  of  time,  supported  herself  and 
four  children  by  cracking  and  boiling  again  the  bones 
from  which  Brinn's  family  had  carefully  scraped  all 
the  meat.  These  bones  she  had  often  taken  and 
boiled  again  and  again  for  the  purpose  of  extracting 
the  least  remaining  portion  of  nutriment.  Mrs.  Eddy 
and  all  but  one  of  her  children  had  perished. 

The  condition  of  the  unfortunates  drew  tears  from 
the  eyes  of  their  preservers.  Their  outward  appear- 
ance was  less  painful  and  revolting,  even,  than  the 
change  which  had  taken  place  in  their  minds  and 
moral  natures. 

"  Many  of  them  had  in  a  great  measure  lost  all  self- 
respect.  Untold  sufferings  had  broken  their  spirits 
and  prostrated  everything  like  an  honorable  and  com- 
mendable pride.    Misfortune  had  dried  up  the  foun- 


A  TERRIBLE  EXPEDIENT. 


461 


bmg 


tains  of  the  heart ;  and  the  dead,  who*n  their  weak- 
ness had  made  it  impossible  to  carry  out,  were  dragged 
from  their  cabins  by  means  of  ropes,  with  an  apathy 
that  afforded  a  faint  indication  of  the  change  which  a 
few  weeks  of  dire  suffering  had  produced  in  hearts 
that  once  sympathized  with  the  distressed  and  mourned 
the  departed.  With  many  of  them,  all  principle,  too, 
had  been  swept  away  by  this  tremendous  torrent  of 
of  accumulated  and  accumulating  calamities.  It  be- 
came necessary  to  place  a  guard  over  the  little  store 
of  provisions  brought  to  their  relief  j  and  they  stole 
and  devoured  the  rawhide  strings  from  the  snow- 
shoes  of  those  who  had  come  to  deliver  them.  But 
some  there  were  whom  no  temptation  could  seduce,  no 
suffering  move ;  who  were 

•Among  the  faithless  faithful  still.' 

The  brightest  examples  of  these  faithful  few  were  to 
be  found  among  the  devoted  women  of  that  doomed 
band.  In  the  midst  of  those  terrible  scenes  when 
they  seemed  abandoned  by  God  and  man,  the  highest 
traits  of  the  female  character  were  constantly  dis- 
played. The  true-hearted,  affectionate  wife,  the  loving, 
tender  mother,  the  angel  of  mercy  to  her  distressed 
comrades — in  all  these  relations  her  woman's  heart 
never  failed  her. 

On  the  morning  of  February  20th  John  Khodes, 
Daniel  Tucker,  and  E.  S.  Mootrey,  three  of  the  party, 
went  to  the  camp  of  George  Donner,  eight  miles  dis- 
tant, taking  with  them  a  little  beef.  These  sufferers 
were  found  with  but  one  hide  remaining.  They  had 
determined  tl  t,  upon  consuming  this,  they  would  dig 
up  from  the  g  ow  the  bodies  of  those  who  had  died 


>>l 


462 


ACROSS  TEE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 


from  starvation.  Mr.  Donner  was  helpless.  Mrs. 
Donner  was  weak,  but  in  good  liealth,  and  might  have 
come  into  the  settlements  with  Mr.  Glover's  party, 
yet  she  solemnly  but  calmly  declared  her  determina- 
tion to  remain  with  her  husband,  and  perform  for  him 
the  last  sad  offices  of  affection  and  humanity.  And 
this  she  did  in  full  view  of  the  fact  that  she  must 
necessarily  perish  by  remaining  behind." 

The  rescuing  party,  after  consultation,  decided  that 
their  best  course  would  be  to  carry  the  women  and 
children  across  the  mountains,  and  then  return  for  the 
remnant  of  the  sufferers.  Accordingly,  leaving  in  the 
mountain-camp  all  the  provisions  that  they  could  spare, 
they  commenced  their  return  to  the  settlement  with 
twenty-three  persons,  principally  women  and  children, 
from  whom,  with  a  kind  thoughtf ulness,  they  concealed 
the  horrible  story  of  the  journey  of  Messrs.  Eddy  and 
Foster. 

A  chUd  of  Mrs.  Pike,  and  one  of  Mrs.  Kiesburg^ 
were  carried  in  the  arms  of  two  of  the  party.  Hardly 
had  they  marched  two  miles  through  the  snow,  when 
two  of  Mrs.  Reed's  children  became  exhausted — one 
of  them  a  girl  of  eight,  the  other  a  little  boy  of  four. 

There  were  but  two  alternatives :  either  to  return 
with  them  to  the  mountain-camp,  or  abandon  them  to 
death.  When  the  mother  was  informed  that  it  would 
be  necessary  to  take  them  back,  a  scene  of  the  most 
thrilling  and  painful  interest  ensued.  She  was  a  wife, 
and  her  affection  for  her  husband,  who  was  then  in  the 
settlement,  dictated  that  she  should  go  on;  but  she 
was  also  a  mother,  and  all-powerful  maternal  love 
asserted  its  sway,  and  she  determined  to  send  forward 


A  LUCKY  FAREWELL. 


463 


the  two  children  who  could  walk,  and  return  herself 
with  the  two  youngest,  and  die  with  them. 

No  argument  or  persuasion  on  the  part  of  Mr. 
Glover  could  shake  her  resolution.  At  last,  in  response 
to  his  solemn  promises  that,  after  reaching  Bear  River, 
he  would  return  to  the  mountain-camp  and  bring  back 
her  children,  after  standing  in  silence  for  some 
moments,  she  turned  from  her  darling  babes  and 
asked  Mr.  Eddy,  "  Are  you  a  mason  *^ "  A  reply 
being  given  in  the  afl&rmative,  she  said,  "will  you 
promise  me,  upon  the  word  of  a  mason,  that  when 
you  arrive  at  Bear  River  Valley,  you  will  return  and 
bring  back  my  children  if  we  do  not  meantime  meet 
their  father  going  for  them?  "  "I  do  thus  promise," 
Mr.  Glover  replied.  "Then  I  will  go  on/'  said  the 
mother,  weeping  bitterly  as  she  pronounced  the 
words.  Patty,  the  little  girl,  then  took  her  mother  by 
the  hand  and  said,  "  Well,  mamma,  kiss  me  good-bye ! 
I  shall  never  see  you  again.  I  am  willing  to  go  back 
to  our  mountain-camp  and  die,  but  I  cannot  consent 
to  your  going  back.  I  shall  die  willingly  if  I  can 
believe  that  you  will  see  papa.  Tell  him  good-bye  for 
his  poor  little  Patty." 

The  mother  and  the  children  lingered  in  a  long 
embrace.  As  Patty  turned  from  her  mother  to  go 
back  to  the  camp,  she  whispered  to  Mr.  Glover 
and  Mr.  Mootrey,  who  were  to  take  her,  that  she  was 
willing  to  go  back  and  take  care  of  her  little  brother, 
but  that  siie  should  never  see  her  mother  again. 

Before  reaching  the  settlement  Mrs.  Reed  met  her 
husban^i,  who  had  been  driven,  for  some  cause,  from 
the  party  several  weeks  before,  and  had  succeeded  in 
crossing  the  mountains  in  safety. 


!i 


ii 


I  , 


\'l 


464 


ACROSS  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 


Messrs.  Reed  and  McCutchen  next  headed  a  relief 
party,  and  crossed  the  mountains  with  suppHes  for  the 
remainder  of  the  emigrants.  The  Reed  children  were 
alive,  but  terribly  wasted  from  their  dreadful  suffer- 
ings. 

Himger  had  driven  the  emigrants  to  revolting  ex- 
tremities. In  some  of  the  cabins  were  found  parts  of 
human  bodies  trussed  and  spitted  for  roasting,  and 
traces  of  these  horrid  feasts  were  seen  about  the  space 
in  front  of  the  doors  where  offal  was  thrown. 

The  r  jrsons  taken  under  Mr.  Reed's  guidance  on 
the  return,  were  Patrick  Brinn,  wife  and  five  children  t 
Mrs.  Graves,  and  four  children ;  Mary  and  Isaac  Don* 
nor,  children  of  Jacob  Donner ;  Solomon  Work,  a  step 
son  of  Jacob  Donner,  and  two  of  his  children.  They 
reached  the  foot  of  the  mountain  without  much  diflR- 
culty ;  but  they  ascertained  that  their  provisions  would 
not  last  them  more  than  a  day  and  a  half.  Mr.  Reed 
then  sent  three  men  forward  with  instructions  to  get 
cjupplies  at  a  cache  about  fifteen  miles  from  the  camp. 
The  party  resumed  its  journey,  crossed  the  Sierra  Ne- 
vada, and  after  traveling  about  ten  miles;  encamped 
on  a  bleak  point,  on  the  north  side  of  a  little  valley, 
near  the  head  of  the  Yuba  River.  A  storm  set  in,  and 
continued  for  two  days  and  three  nights.  On  the 
morning  of  the  third  day,  the  clouds  broke  away  and 
the  weather  became  more  intensely  cold  than  it  had 
been  during  the  journey.  The  sufferings  of  the  emi- 
c^rants  in  their  bleak  camp  were  too  dreadful  to  be 
described.  There  was  the  greatest  difficulty  in  keep- 
ing up  the  fire,  and  during  the  night  the  women  and 
children,  who  had  on  very  thin  clothing,  were  in  great 
danger  of  freezing  to  death  j  when  the  storm  passed 


A  SHOCKING  SPECTACLE. 


465 


and 

the 

and 

had 

emi- 

be 

eep- 

and 

;reat 

ssed 


away,  the  whole  party  were  very  weak,  having  passed 
two  days  without  food.  Leaving  Patrick  Brinn  and 
his  family  and  the  rest  of  the  party  who  were  disa- 
bled, Mr.  Reed,  and  his  California  friends,  his  two 
children,  Solomon  Hook  and  a  Mr.  Miller,  pressed  for- 
ward for  supplies,  and  in  five  days  they  succeeded  in 
reaching  the  settlement. 

It  was  some  weeks  before  a  new  relief  party  organ- 
ized by  Messrs.  Eddy  and  Foster  were  successful  in 
reaching  the  party  which  Reed  had  left.  A  shocking 
spectacle  was  presented  to  the  eyes  of  the  adventurers 
at  the  "Starved  Camp"  as  they  rightly  named  it. 
Patrick  Brinn  and  his  wife  were  sunning  themselves 
with  a  look  of  vacuity  upon  their  faces.  They  had 
eaten  the  two  children  of  Jacob  Donner :  Mrs.  Graves' 
body  was  lying  near  them  with  almost  all  the  flesh  cut 
from  the  arms  and  limbs.  Her  breasts,  heart,  and 
liver  were  then  being  boiled  over  the  fire.  Her 
child  sat  by  the  side  of  the  mangled  remains  crying 
bitterly. 

After  being  supplied  with  food  they  were  left  in 
charge  of  three  men  who  undertook  to  conduct  them 
to  the  settlement.  Meanwhile  Messrs.  Eddy  and  Fos- 
ter went  on  to  the  horrible  mountain-camp  only  to 
be  shocked  and  revolted  by  new  scenes  of  horror. 
Strewed  about -the  cabins  and  burrows,  in  the  snow, 
were  the  fragments  of  human  bodies  from  which  the 
flesh  had  been  stripped ;  among  the  debris  of  the  hide- 
ous feasts  sot  the  emaciated  survivors  looking  more 
like  cannibal-demons  than  human  beings.  Kiesburg 
had  dug  up  the  corpse  of  one  of  Mr.  Eddj-'s  children 
and  devoured  it,  even  when  other  food  could  be  ob- 
tained, and  the  enfuriated  father  could  with  difficulty 
80 


\>l 


466 


ACROSS  TEE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 


be  restrained  from  killing  the  monster  on  the  spot. 
Of  the  five  surviving  children  at  the  mountain-camp, 
three  were  those  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jacob  Donner. 
When  the  time  came  for  the  party  of  unfortunates  to 
start  for  the  settlement  under  the  guidance  of  their 
generous  protectors,  Mr.  Donner's  condition  was  so 
feeble  that  he  was  unable  to  accompany  them,  and 
though  Mrs.  Donner  was  capable  of  traveling,  she  ut- 
terly refused  to  leave  her  husband  while  he  survived. 
In  response  to  the  solicitations  of  those  who  urged 
that  her  husband  could  live  but  a  little  longer,  and 
that  her  presence  would  not  add  one  moment  to  the 
remaining  span  of  his  life,  she  expressed  her  solemn 
and  unalterable  purpose  which  no  hardship  or  danger 
could  change,  to  remain  and  perform  lor  him  the  last 
sad  offices  of  duty  and  affection.  At  the  same  time 
she  manifested  the  profoundest  solicitude  for  her  be- 
loved children,  and  implored  Mr.  Eddy  to  save  them, 
promising  all  that  she  possessed  if  he  would  convey 
them  in  safety  to  the  settlement.  He  pledged  himself 
to  carry  out  her  wishes  without  recompense,  or  perish 
in  the  attempt. 

No  provisions  remained  to  supply  the  needs  of  these 
unhappy  beings.  At  the  end  of  two  hours  Mr.  Eddy 
informed  Mrs.  Donner  that  a  terrible  necessity  con- 
strained him  to  depart.  It  was  certain  that  Jacob 
Donner  would  never  rise  from  the  wretched  couch  on 
which  he  lay,  worn  out  with  toil  and  wasted  by  fam- 
ine. It  was  almost  equally  certain  that  unless  Mrs. 
Donner  then  abandoned  her  unfortunate  partner  and 
accompanied  Mr.  Eddy  and  his  party  to  the  settlement, 
she  would  die  of  wasting  famine  or  perish  violently  at 
the  hands  of  some  lurking  cannibal.     By  accompany- 


LOVE'S  LAST  SACRIFICE. 


467 


ing  her  children  she  could  minister  to  their  wants  and 
perhaps  be  the  means  of  saving  their  lives.  The  all- 
powerful  maternal  instinct  combined  with  the  love  of 
life,  urged  her  to  fly  with  her  children  from  the  scene 
of  so  many  horrors  and  dangers.  Well  might  her 
reason  have  questioned  her,  "  Why  stay  and  meet  in- 
evitable death  since  you  cannot  save  your  husband 
from  the  grave  which  yawns  to  receive  him?  and 
when  your  presence,  your  converse  and  hands  can 
only  beguile  the  few  remaining  hours  of  his  existence  ?" 
Time  passed.  By  no  entreaties  could  she  enlarge  the 
hour  of  departure  which  had  now  arrived.  Nor  did 
she  seek  to  and  thus  endanger  the  lives  of  those  who 
were  hastening  to  depart.  She  must  decide  the  dread 
question  that  moment. 

Rarely  in  the  long  suffering  record  of  woman,  he  i 
she  been  placed  in  circumstances  of  such  pecuhar  trial, 
but  the  love  of  life,  the  instinct  of  self  preservation, 
and  even  maternal  affection,  could  not  triumph  over 
her  affection  as  a  wife.  Her  husband  begged  her  to 
save  her  life  and  leave  him  to  die  alone,  assuring  her 
that  she  could  be  of  no  service  to  him,  as  he  could  not 
probably  survive  under  any  circumstances  until  the 
next  morning;  with  streaming  eyes  she  bent  over 
him,  kissed  his  pale,  emaciated,  haggard,  and  even 
then,  death-stricken  cheek,  and  said : 

"  No !  no !  dear  husband,  I  will  remain  with  you, 
and  here  perish  rather  than  leave  you  to  die  alone, 
with  no  one  to  soothe  your  dying  sorrows,  and  close 
your  eyes  when  dead.  Entreat  me  not  to  leave  you. 
Life,  accompanied  with  the  reflection  that  I  had  thus 
left  you,  would  possess  for  me  more  than  the  bitter- 
ness of  death  J  and  death  would  be  sweet  with  the 


l.« 


IP 


468 


ACROSS  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 


thought  in  my  last  moments,  that  I  had  assuaged  one 
pang  of  yours  in  your  passage  into  eternity.  No !  no ! 
no !"  she  repeated,  sobbing  convulsively. 

The  parting  interview  between  the  parents  and  the 
children  is  represented  to  have  been  one  that  can  never 
be  forgotten  as  long  as  reason  remains  or  the  memory 
performs  its  functions.  In  the  dying  father  the  foun- 
tain of  tears  was  dried  up ;  but  the  agony  on  his  death- 
stricken  face  and  the  feeble  pressure  of  his  hand  on 
the  brow  of  each  little  one  as  it  bade  him  adieu  for 
ever,  told  the  story  of  his  last  great  sorrow.  As  Mrs. 
Donner  clasped  her  children  to  her  heart  in  a  parting 
embrace,  she  turned  to  Mr.  Eddy  with  streaming  eyes 
and  sobbed  her  last  words,  "  0,  save,  save,  my  chil- 
dren!" 

This  closing  scene  in  the  sad  and  eventfu:.  careers 
of  those  unfortunate  emigrants  was  the  crowning  act 
in  a  long  and  terrible  drama  which  illustrated,  under 
many  conditions  of  toil,  hardship,  danger,  despair,  and 
death,  the  courage,  fortitude,  patience,  love,  and  devo- 
tion cf  woman. 


OHAPTEE    XX. 


THE  COMFORTER  AND  THE  GUARDIAN. 


MIND-POWER  and  heart-power — these  are  the 
forces  that  move  the  moral  universe.  Which  is 
the  stronger,  who  shall  say  ?  If  the  former  is  within 
the  province  of  the  man,  the  latter  is  still  more 
exclusively  the  prerogative  of  woman.  With  this  she 
wins  and  rules  her  empire,  with  this  she  celebrates  her 
noblest  triumphs,  and  proves  herself  to  be  the  God- 
delegated  consoler  and  comforter  of  mankind.  This 
is  the  power  which  moves  the  will  to  deeds  of  charity 
and  mercy,  which  awakens  the  latent  sympathies  for 
suffering  humanity,  which  establishes  the  law  of  kind- 
ness, soothes  the  irritated  and  perturbed  spirit,  and 
pours  contentment  and  happiness  into  the  soul. 

If  we  could  collect  and  concentrate  into  one  great 
pulsating  organ  all  the  noble  individual  emotions  that 
have  stirred  a  million  human  hearts,  what  a  prodigious 
agency  would  that  be  to  act  for  good  upon  the  world ! 
And  yet  we  may  see  something  of  the  operation  of 
just  such  an  agency  if  we  search  the  record  of  our 
time,  watch  the  inner  movements  which  control  society 
and  reflect  that  nearly  every  home  contains  a  frac- 
tional portion  of  this  beneficent  agency,  each  fraction 
working  in  its  way,  and  according  to  its  measure,  in 
harmony  with  all  the  others  towards  the  same  end. 

Warm  and  fruitful  as  the  sunshine,  and  subtle,  too, 
as  the  ether  which  illumines  the  solar  walk,  we  can 

(469) 


ii 


470 


THE  COMFORTER  AND  THE  GUARDIAN. 


gauge  the  strength  of  this  agency  only  by  its  results. 
Nor  can  we  by  the  symbols  of  language  fully  compass 
and  describe  even  these  results. 

The  man  of  science  can  measure  the  great  forces  of 
physical  nature ;  heat,  electricity,  and  light  can  all  be 
gauged  by  mechanisms  constructed  by  his  hand,  but 
by  no  device  can  he  measure  the  forces  of  our  mori^il 
nature. 

The  poet,  whose  insight  is  deeper  than  others'  into 
this  great  and  mysterious  potency,  can  only  give 
glimpses  of  its  source,  and  draw  tears  by  painting,  in 
words,  the  traits  which  it  induces. 

The  historian  and  biographer  can  record  and  dwell 
with  fondness  upon  the  acts  of  men  and  women, 
which  were  prompted  by  this  power  of  the  soul. 

The  moralist  can  point  to  them  as  examples  to  fol- 
low, or  as  cheering  evidence  of  the  loftier  impulses  of 
humanity.  But  still,  in  its  depth  and  height,  in  its 
fountain,  and  in  its  remotest  outflow,  this  power  cannot 
be  fully  measured  or  appreciated  by  any  standards 
known  to  man.  The  comprehensive  and  conceptive 
faculty  of  the  imagination  is  wearied  in  placing  before 
itself  the  springs,  the  action,  and  the  boundless  benefi- 
cence of  this  grand  force,  which  flourishes  and  lives 
in  its  highest  efficiency  in  the  breast  of  woman. 
"  Thanks,"  cries  the  poet  of  nature  and  of  God, 

"  Thanks,  to  the  human  heart,  by  which  we  live, 
Tlianks  to  its  tenderness,  its  joys,  its  fears." 

"We  have  shown  how  in  all  the  ages  since  the  land- 
ing, woman  has  proved  her  title  to  the  possession  of 
the  manly  virtues.  We  have  shown  her  as  a  heroine, 
battling  with  the  hostile  powers  of  man  and  nature. 


A  HERO  AND  STILL  A  WOMAN. 


471 


and  yet,  even  in  those  cases,  if  we  were  to  analyze 
the  motives  which  prompted  her  heroic  acts,  we  should 
find  them  to  spring  at  last  from  the  source  of  power 
whereof  we  are  speaking.  It  is  out  of  her  abounding 
and  forceful  emotional  nature  that  she  becomes  a 
heroine.  It  is  to  relieve,  to  succor,  or  to  save  her  dear 
ones,  that  she  is  brave,  strong,  enduring,  patient,  and 
devoted. 

Frontier  life  has  called  upon  her  for  the  exercise  of 
these  qualities,  and  she  has  nobly  responded  to  the 
call.  She  fought ;  she  toiled ;  she  was  undaunted  by 
the  apprehension  of  dangers  and  difficulties  as  well  as 
intrepid  in  facing  them.  She  bore  without  complaint 
the  privations  and  hardships  incident  to  such  a  life, 
and  taxed  every  resource  of  body  and  mind  in  efforts 
to  secure  for  her  successors  a  home  which  neither 
peril  nor  trial  should  assail. 

But  this  did  not  embrace  the  entire  circle  of  her 
acts  and  her  influence.  To  soothe,  to  comfort,  to  sus- 
tain in  the  trying  time,  to  throw  over  the  darkest  hour 
the  brightness  of  her  sunny  presence  and  sweet  voice — 
by  these  influences  she  did  more  to  establish  and  con- 
firm that  civilization  which  our  race  has  been  carrying 
westward,  than  by  even  those  exhibitions  of  manly 
heroism  of  which  we  have  spoken. 

Nine  generations  of  men  and  women,  through  a 
period  which  a  few  years  more  will  make  three  centu- 
ries, have  been  engaged  in  extending  the  frontier  line, 
or  have  lived  surrounded  by  circumstances  similar  to 
those  which  environ  the  remote  border.  The  aggre- 
gate number  of  these  men  and  women  cannot  be  any 
more  than  estimated.  Doubtless  it  will  amount  to 
many  millions.    A  million  helpmeets  and  comforters 


m 


it  1;i;l 


472 


THE  COMFORTER  AND  THE  GUARDIAN. 


in  a  million  homes !  Mothers,  wives,  daughters,  As- 
ters— all  supporting  and  buoying  up  the  well-nigh 
broken  spirits  of  the  "stronger  sex,"  and,  by  simple 
words,  encouraging  and  stimulating  to  repair  their 
desperate  fortunes.  Who  can  calculate  the  sum  total 
of  such  an  influence  as  this  ?  ' 

Among  the  myriad  instances  of  the  solacing  and 
soul-inspiring  power  of  a  woman's  voice  in  hours  of 
darkness  on  the  lonely  border,  we  select  a  few  for 
the  purpose  of  showing  her  in  this  her  appropriate 
domain. 

Nearly  two  centuries  ago,  in  one  of  those  heated 
religious  controversies  which  occurred  in  a  river  set- 
tlement in  Massachusetts,  a  young  man  and  his  wife 
felt  themselves  constrained,  partly  through  a  desire 
for  greater  liberty  of  thought  and  action,  and  partly 
from  natural  energy  of  disposition,  to  push  away  from 
the  fertile  valley  and  establish  their  home  on  one  of 
those  bleak  hillsides  which  form  the  spurs  of  the 
Green  Mountain  range.  Here  they  set  up  their 
household  deities,  and  lit  the  lights  of  the  fireside  in 
the  darkness  of  the  forest,  and  amid  the  wild  loneli- 
ness of  nature's  hitherto  untended  domain. 

In  such  situations  as  these,  not  merely  from  their 
isolation,  but  from  the  sterility  of  the  soil  and  the 
inhospitable  air  of  the  region,  the  struggle  for  existence 
is  often  a  severe  one.  Perseverance  and  self-denial, 
however,  triumphed  over  all  difficulties.  Year  after 
year  the  trees  bowed  themselves  before  the  axe,  and 
the  soil  surrendered  its  reluctant  treasures  in  the  fur- 
row of  the  ploughshare. 

Plenty  smiled  around  the  cabin.     The  light  glowed 


AMONG  THE  GREEN  MOUNTAINS. 


473 


A 


on  the  hearth,  and  the  benighted  traveler  hailed  its 
welcome  rays  as  he  fared  towards  the  hospitable  door. 

Apart  from  the  self-interest  and  happiness  of  its  in- 
mates, it  was  no  small  benefit  to  others  that  such  a 
home  was  made  in  that  rugged  country.  Such  homes 
are  the  outposts  of  the  army  of  pioneers :  here  they 
can  pause  and  rest,  gathering  courage  and  confidence 
when  they  regard  them  as  establishments  in  the  same 
wilderness  where  they  are  seeking  to  plant  themselves. 

Five  years  after  their  arrival  their  house  and  barns 
were  destroyed  by  fire.  Their  cattle,  farming  utensils, 
and  household  furniture  were  all  fortunately  saved, 
and  before  long  the  buildings  were  replaced,  and  in 
two  years  all  the  ravages  of  the  devouring  element 
had  been  repaired.  Again  a  happy  and  plenteous 
abode  rewarded  the  labors  of  the  pair.  Three  years 
rolled  away  in  the  faithful  discharge  of  every  duty 
incumbent  upon  them,  each  toiling  in  their  respective 
sphere  to  increase  their  store  and  rear  their  large 
family  of  children. 

A  series  of  severe  rains  had  kept  them  within  doors 
for  nearly  ten  days.  One  afternoon  as  they  were  sit- 
ting before  their  fire  they  experienced  a  peculiar  sen- 
sation as  though  the  ground  on  which  the  house  stood 
was  moving.  Kunning  out  doors,  they  saw  that  the 
rains  had  loosened  the  hill-side  soil  from  the  rock  on 
which  it  lay,  and  that  it  was  slowly  moving  into  the 
ravine  below.  Hastily  collecting-  their  children,  they 
had  barely  time  to  escape  to  a  rock  a  short  distance 
from  their  house,  when  the  landslide  carried  the  house 
and  barns,  with  the  ground  on  which  they  stood,  into 
the  ravine,  burying  them  and  their  entire  contents 
beneath  twenty  feet  of  earth. 


lil' 


'     'lii 
III"''   ' 


I     ii 


II 


474 


THE  COMFORTER  AND  THE  GUARDIAN. 


Almost  worn  out  with  his  unremitting  toils  contin- 
ued through  ten  years,  and  seeing  the  fruits  of  that 
toil  swept  away  in  an  instant,  looking  around  him  in 
vain  for  any  shelter,  and  far  away  from  any  helping 
hand,  it  was  not  surprising  that  the  man  should  have 
given  way  to  despair.  He  wept,  groaned,  and  tore 
his  hair,  declaring  that  he  would  struggle  no  longer 
wi  h  fates  which  proved  so  adverse.  "  Go,"  said  he, 
"  Mary,  to  the  nearest  house  with  the  children.  1 
will  die  here." 

His  wife  was  one  of  those  fragile  figures  which  it 
seemed  that  a  breath  could  blow  away.  Hers,  however, 
was  an  organization  which  belied  its  apparent  weak- 
ness. A  brave  and  loving  spirit  animated  that  frail 
tenement.  Long  she  strove  to  soothe  her  husband's 
grief,  but  without  avail. 

Gathering  a  thick  bed  of  leaves  and  sheltering  her 
children  as  well  as  she  could  from  the  chilly  air,  she 
returned  ever  and  anon  to  the  spot  where  her  husband 
sat  in  the  stupor  of  despair,  and  uttered  words  of 
comfort  and  timely  suggestions  of  possible  means  of 
relief. 

"  We  began  with  nothing,  John,  and  we  can  begin 
with  nothing  again.  You  are  strong,  and  so  am  I. 
Bethink  yourself  of  thoyo  who  pass  by  on  their  way  to 
the  great  river  every  y  t:\r  at  this  time.  These  folk  are 
good  and  neighborly,  and  will  lend  us  willing  hands 
to  dig  out  of  the  earth  the  gear  that  we  have  lost  by 
the  landslip."  Thus  through  the  night,  with  these 
and  like  expressions,  she  comforted  and  encouraged 
the  heart-broken  man,  and  having  at  length  kindled 
hope,  succeeded  in  rousing  him  to  exertion. 

For  two  days   the  whole  family  suffered  greatly 


-4V  EPIDEMIC  FEVER  AMONG  THE  MINERS. 


475 


I 


of 
of 


while  a"waiting  help,  but  that  hope  which  the  words  of 
the  wife  had  awakened,  did  not  again  depart.  A  party 
of  passing  emigrants,  ascertaining  the  condition  of  the 
family,  all  turned  to,  and  having  the  necessary  tools, 
soon  dug  down  to  the  house  and  barn,  and  succeeded 
in  recovering  most  of  the  buried  furniture,  stores,  and 
utensils.  The  unlucky  couple  succeeded  finally  in 
retrieving  themselves,  and  years  after,  when  the  father 
was  passing  a  prosperous  old  age  in  the  valley  of  the 
Mohawk,  to  which  section  the  family  eventually  moved, 
he  was  wont  to  tell  how  his  wife  had  lifted  him  out 
of  the  depths  of  despair  by  those  kind  and  thoughtful 
words,  and  put  new  life  and  hope  into  his  heart  during 
those  dark  days  among  the  mountains  of  Massachu- 
setts. 

There  is  no  section  of  our  country  where  the  pres- 
ence of  woman  is  so  strong  for  good,  and  where  her 
words  of  lofty  cheer  to  the  stricken  and  distressed 
are  so  potential  as  in  the  mountain  republics  on  our 
extreme  western  border.  There  are  in  that  section 
communities  composed  almost  entirely  of  men  who  not 
only  treat  the  few  of  the  other  sex  who  live  among 
them,  with  a  chivalrous  respect,  but  who  listen  to  their 
words  as  if  they  were  heaven-sent  messages.  In  one 
of  the  mining  settlements  of  California,  during  the 
early  years  of  that  State,  an  epidemic  fever  broke 
out,  and  raged  with  great  malignity  among  the  miners. 
The  settlement  was  more  than  two  hundred  miles  from 
San  Francisco,  in  a  secluded  mountain  gorge,  barren 
of  all  but  the  precious  metal  which  had  attracted 
thither  a  rough  and  motley  multitude.  There  was 
no  doctor  within  a  hundred  miles,  and  not  a  single 


kA 


476 


THE  COMFORTER  AND  THE  GUARDIAN. 


I  I: 


female  to  nurse  and  watch  the  forlorn  subjects  of  the 
pestilence. 

Mrs.  Maurice,  a  married  lady  who  had  recently  come 
from  the  east  to  San  Francisco  with  her  husband, 
hearing  of  the  distress  which  prevailed  in  that  moun- 
tain district,  immediately  set  out,  in  company  with 
her  husband,  who  heartily  sympathized  with  her  gen- 
erous enterprise,  and  crossed  the  Sierra  Nevada  for  the 
purpose  of  ministering  to  the  wants  of  the  sick.  She 
carried  a  large  supply  of  medicines  and  other  neces- 
saries, and  after  a  toilsome  journey  over  the  rough 
foot-paths  which  were  then  the  only  avenues  by  which 
the  p^ace  could  be  reached,  arrived  at  the  settlement. 
By  some  means  the  miners  had  become  apprised  of 
her  approach,  and  she  was  met  by  a  cavalcade  of 
rough-bearded  men,  a  score  in  number,  mounted  on 
mules,  as  a  guard  of  honor  to  escort  her  to  the  scene 
of  her  noble  labor*  As  she  came  in  sight,  riding 
down  the  mountain  side,  the  escort  party  waved  theii 
huge  hats  in  the  air  and  hurrahed  as  if  they  were  mad, 
while  the  tears  streamed  down  their  swarthy  cheeks. 
With  heads  uncovered  they  ranged  themselves  on 
either  side  of  the  lady  and  her  husband,  and  accom- 
panied them  to  the  place  where  the  pestilence  was 
raging.  Some  of  the  isick  men  rose  from  their  beds 
and  stood  with  pale,  fever-wasted  faces  at  the  doors 
of  their  wretched  cabins,  and  smiled  feebly  and  tried 
to  shout  as  the  noble  woman  drew  near.  Their  voices 
were  hollow  and  bcpulchral,  and  the  ministering  angel 
who  had  visited  them  witnessed  this  moving  spectacle 
not  without  tears.  For  two  months  she  passed  her 
time  night  and  day  in  watching  over  and  ministering 
to  those  unfortunate  men.    Snatching  a  nap  now  and 


I 


WOMAN  AMONG  THE  MINERS. 


477 


3ds 


then,  every  other  available  moment  was  given  to  her 
patients.  Many  died,  and  after  receiving  their  last 
messages  to  friends  far  away  in  the  east,  she  closed 
their  eyes  and  passed  on  in  her  errand  of  mercy. 

One  of  her  patients  thus  testified  to  the  efficacy  of 
her  ministrations:  "As  I  ove  my  recovery  to  her 
exertions,  I  rejoice  to  give  my  testimony  to  her  un- 
tiring zeal,  her  self-sacrificing  devotion,  and  her  angelic 
kindness.  She  never  seemed  to  me  to  be  happy  ex- 
cept when  engaged  in  alleviating  the  sufferings  of  us 
who  were  sick,  and  she  watched  over  us  with  all  the 
tenderness  and  love  of  a  mother.  Many  of  the  sick 
men  called  her  by  that  endeared  name,  and  we  all 
•seemed  to  be  her  children. 

"  Even  in  the  gloom?  f»st  cabins  and  to  the  most  dis- 
heartened of  the  fever-stricken,  her  presence  seemed 
to  bring  sunshine.  Her  face  always  wore  a  smile  so 
sweet  that  I  forgot  my  pain  when  I  gazed  upon  her. 
Her  voice  rings  in  my  ears  even  now.  It  was  pecu- 
liarly soft  and  musical,  and  I  never  heard  her  speak 
but  I  recalled  those  lines  of  the  great  dramatist,  '  Her 
voice  was  ever  low,  an  excellent  thing  in  woman.' 
Every  sufferer  waited  tc  hear  her  speak  and  seemed 
to  hang  upon  her  accents.  Her  words  were  few,  but 
so  kind  that  we  all  felt  that  with  such  a  friend  to  help 
us  we  could  not  long  be  sick. 

"  She  was  entirely  forgetful  of  herself,  so  much  did 
the  poor  invalids  dwell  in  her  thoughts. 

"  The  storms  of  autumn  raged  with  frightful  violence 
throughout  that  gorge,  and  yet  1  have  known  her, 
while  the  wind  was  howling  an  I  the  rain  pouring,  to 
go  round  three  timefj  in  one  night  to  the  bedsides  of 
those  whobc  lives  were  hanging  by  a  thread.    Once  I 


i-t 


478 


THE  COMFORTER  AND  THE  GUARDIAN. 


recollect  after  my  recovery,  going  to  see  a  young  man 
who  was  very  low  and  seemed  to  have  life  only  while 
Mrs.  Maurice  bent  over  him.  She  had  visited  him 
early  that  evening,  and  had  promised  to  come  and  see 
him  again  after  making  her  rounds  among  her  other 
patients.  A  fierce  snow  storm  had  come  up  and  a 
strong  man  could  barely  maintain  himself  before  the 
blast.  I  found  the  poor  fellow  very  low.  He  was 
evidently  sinking  rapidly.  He  moved  feebly  and  turned 
away  his  eyes,  which  were  fixed  upon  me  as  I  entered. 
It  was  aL  eady  considerably  past  the  hour  when  it  was 
expected  she  would  return,  and  as  I  bent  to  ask  Vr^z 
how  he  was,  he  looked  into  my  face  with  a  bright  eo- 
ger  gaze,  and  said  in  a  whisper,  "ask  mother  to  come." 
I  knew  in  an  instant  whom  he  meant  and  said  I  would 
go  in  search  of  her  and  conduct  her  thither  through 
the  storm. 

I  had  only  reached  the  door  when  she  met  me.  I 
never  shall  forget  her  appearance  as  she  entered  out 
of  the  howling  stonn  and  stood  in  that  dim  light  all 
radiant  with  kindness  and  sympathy,  which  beamed 
from  her  face  and  seemed  to  illumine  the  room.  The 
suffeier's  face  brightened  and  his  frame  seemed  to 
have  a  sudden  life  breathed  into  it  when  he  saw  her 
enter.  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  she  had  a  miraculous 
healing  power,  for  that  moment  he  began  to  mend, 
and  in  a  few  weeks  was  restored  to  his  pristine 
health." 

It  was  beyond  doubt  that  her  presence  and  gentle 
words  were  more  potent  in  effecting  cures  than  were 
the  medicines  which  she  administered.  Those  vvb  , 
recovered  and  walked  out  when  they  saw  her  ap- 
proaching, even  at  a  distance,  were  wont  to  remove 


ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  COMFORTERS.  479 

their  hats  and  stand  as  she  went  by  gazmg  at  her  as 
if  she  was  an  angel  of  light. 

The  scene  after  the  last  patient  was  convalescent, 
and  when  she  came  to  take  her  departure,  was  inde- 
scribable. All  the  miners  quit  work  and  gr^thered  in 
the  village  ;  a  party  was  appointed  to  escort  her  to  the 
mountain  and  the  rest  formed  a  long  line  on  each  side 
and  stood  bareheaded  and  some  of  them  weeping  as 
she  passed  through. 

The  mounted  ir.en  accompanied  her  and  her  hus- 
band and  their  guide  to  the  top  of  the  mountain.  All 
of  the  escort  had  been  her  patients  and  some  of  them 
wyre  still  wasted  and  wan  from  the  fever.  When 
they  bade  her  farewell  there  was  not  a  dry  eye  among 
them,  and  long  after  she  had  left  them  they  could 
have  been  seen  gazing  after  the  noble  matron  who 
had  visited  and  comforted  them  in  their  grievous  sick- 
ness and  pain. 

Life  in  the  Eocky  Mountains  before  the  great  trans- 
continental line  was  built  was  remarkable  for  concen- 
trating in  itself  the  extremest  forms  of  almost  every 
peril,  hardship,  and  privation  which  is  incident  to  the 
frontier.  Even  at  the  present  day  and  with  the  in- 
creased facilities  for  reaching  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific 
coast  by  that  single  railroad,  the  greater  part  of  the 
region  far  north  and  far  south  of  that  line  of  travel  is 
still  isolated  from,  the  world  by  vast  distances  and 
great  natural  obstacles  to  communication  between  the 
different  points  of  settlement. 

So  much  the  more  valuable  and  stronger  therefore 
upon  that  field  is  the  emotional  force  of  good  women. 
Such  there  were  and  are  scattered  through  that  rocky 
wilderness  whose  ministrations,  in  many  a  lonely  cabin, 


w, 


480 


THE  COMFORTER  AND  THE  GUA  liD/AN. 


and  with  many  a  wayfaring  band,  are  like  those  of  the 
angel  who  visited  the  prophet  of  old  when  he  dwelt 
"  in  a  desert  apart." 

An  incident  is  told  of  a  party  of  emigrants,  who 
were  journeying  through  Idaho  that  powerfully  illus- 
trates this  idea. 

•  There  were  five  in  the  party,  viz.  James  Peterson, 
an  aged  man,  his  two  daughters,  his  son,  and  his  son's 
wife. 

Will  i^  suing  their  toilsome  and  devious  course 
through  ; .  gorges  and  up  and  down  the  stoops,  a 
friendly  Indian  whom  they  met  informed  them  that  a 
few  miles  from  the  route  they  were  following,  a  body 
of  men  were  starving  in  an  almost  inaccessible  ravina 
where  they  had  been  prospecting  for  gold.  Mr.  Pe- 
terson  and  his  son,  although  they  pitied  the  unfortu< 
nate  gold  hunters,  were  disinclined  to  turn  from  their 
course,  judging  that  the  difficulties  of  reaching  them, 
and  of  conveying  the  necessary  stores  over  the  rocks 
and  across  the  rapid  torrents  were  such  that  they 
would  render  the  attempt  wholly  impracticable. 

The  two  daughters,  as  well  as  the  wife  of  young 
Peterson,  refused  to  listen  to  the  cold  dictates  of  pru- 
dence which  controlled  Mr.  Peterson  and  his  soi: :  they 
saw  in  imagination  only  the  wretched  starving  men,  and 
and  their  hearts  yearned  to  relieve  them. 

Turning  a  deaf  ear  to  the  arguments  and  persua- 
sions of  the  elder  and  younger  Peterson,  they  urged 
in  eloquent  and  pleading  tones  that  they  might  be  al- 
lowed to  follow  the  impulses  of  kindness  and  pity  and 
visit  the  objects  of  their  compassion.  The  father 
could  stay  with  the  team  and  the  brother  and  husband 


THE  PETERSON  GIRLS. 


481 


could  accompany  them  under  the  guidance  of  the  In- 
dian, on  their  errand  of  mercy. 

Their  prayers  and  persuasions  at  last  prevailed  over 
the  objections  which  were  offered.  Selecting  the  most 
concentrated  and  nourishing  food  which  their  store  of 
provisions  embraced,  young  Peterson  and  the  Indian 
loaded  themselves  with  all  that  they  could  carry,  the 
three  women,  who  were  strong  and  active,  also  bearing 
a  portion  of  the  supplies.  The  party,  after  a  most 
difficult  and  toilsome  march  on  foot,  succeeded  in 
reaching  the  top  of  the  mountain,  from  which  they 
could  look  down  into  the  ravine  upon  the  spot  where 
the  unfortunate  men  were  encamped.  They  could 
see  no  sign  of  life,  and  feared  they  had  come  too  late. 

As  they  neared  the  place,  picking  their  way  down 
precipices  where  a  single  misstep  would  have  been 
death,  one  of  the  women  waved  her  handkerchief  and 
the  men  shouted  at  the  top  of  their  voices.  No  re- 
sponse came  back  except  the  echoes  which  reverber- 
ated from  the  wall  of  the  mountain  opposite.  The 
rays  of  the  setting  sun  fell  on  seven  human  forms 
stretched  on  the  ground.  One  of  these  forms  at  length 
raised  itself  to  a  sitting  posture  and  gazed  with  a  dazed 
look  at  the  rescuers  hastening  towards  them.  The 
rest  had  given  up  all  hope  and  lain  down  to  die. 

A  spoonful  of  stimulant  was  immediately  adminis- 
tered to  each  of  the  seven  sufferers,  and  kindling  a 
fire,  the  women  quickly  prepared  broth  with  the  dried 
meat  which  they  had  brought.  The  starving  men 
were  in  a  light-headed  condition,  induced  by  long 
fasting,  and  could  scarcely  comprehend  that  they  were 
saved.  "  Who  be  those,  Jim,  walking  round  that  fire ; 
not  women ? "  said  one  of  the  men.  "No,  Pete,"  was 
81 


i 


482 


THE  COMFORTER  AND  THE  GUARDIAN. 


the  reply,  "  them's  angels ;  didn't  you  hear  'em  sing 
to  us  a  spell  ago  ?  "  The  kind  words  with  which  the 
three  women  had  sought  to  recall  the  wretched  way- 
farers to  life  and  hope  might  well  have  been  mistaken 
for  an  angel's  song.  One  of  the  men  afterwards  said 
he  dreamed  he  was  in  heaven,  and  when  his  eyes  were 
opened  by  the  sound  of  those  sweet  voices,  and  he  saw 
those  noble  girls,  he  knew  his  dream  had  come  true. 

Another  said  that  those  voices  brought  him  back  to 
life  and  hope,  more  than  all  the  food  and  stimulants. 

For  a  week  these  angels  of  mercy  nursed  and  fed 
the  starving  men,  the  Indian  meanwhile  having  shot 
a  mountain  goat,  which  increased  their  supplies,  and 
at  the  end  of  that  period  the  men  were  sufficiently 
recruited  to  start,  in  company  with  their  preservers, 
for  the  camp,  where  Mr.  Peterson  was  awaiting  the 
return  of  his  daughters,  of  whose  safety  he  had  been 
already  informed  by  the  Indian. 

When  the  rescued  men  came  to  bid  them  farewell, 
they  brought  a  bag  containing  a  hundred  pounds 
weight  of  gold  dust,  the  price  for  which  would  have 
been  their  lives  but  for  those  devoted  women,  and 
begged  them  to  accept  it,  not  as  a  reward,  but  as  a 
token  of  their  gratitude.  The  girls  refused  to  take 
the  gift,  believing  that  the  adventurous  miners  needed 
it,  and  that  they  had  been  amply  rewarded  by  the 
reflection  that  they  had  saved  seven  lives. 

The  parting,  on  both  sides,  was  tearful,  the  rough 
miners  being  more  affected  than  even  the  women. 
Each  party  pursued  its  separate  course,  the  one  towards 
Oregon,  the  other  towards  Utah ;  but  after  the  Peter- 
sons had  reached  the  spot  where  they  encamped  that 
night,  they  discovered  the  bag  of  gold,  which  the 


A  GENEROUS  GIFT. 


483 


a 

Ke 
ed 


the 


miners  had  secretly  deposited  in  the  wagon.  The 
treasure  thus  forced  upon  them  was  divided  between 
the  Miss  Petersons  and  their  sister-in-law.  Bright  and 
pure  as  that  metal  was,  it  was  incomparably  less  lus- 
trous than  the  deeds  which  it  rewarded,  and  infinitely 
less  pure  than  the  motives  which  prompted  them. 
Finely  has  a  poet  of  our  own  time  celebrated  the 
ondrous  power  of  those  words  of  cheer  and  comfort 
which  woman  utters  so  often  to  the  unfortunate. 

01  ever  when  the  happy  laugh  is  dumb, 

All  the  joy  gone,  and  all  the  sorrow  come. 

When  loss,  despair,  and  soul-distracting  pain, 

Wring  the  sad  heart  and  rack  the  throbbing  brain, 

The  only  hope — the  only  comfort  heard — 

Comes  in  the  music  of  a  woman's  word. 

Like  beacon-bell  on  some  wild  island  shore, 

Silverly  ringing  through  the  tempest's  roar. 

Whose  sound  borne  shipward  through  the  ocean  gloom 

Tells  of  the  path  and  tmuE  her  from  her  doom. 

Acting  within  their  own  homes,  who  can  sum  up  the 
entire  amount  of  good  which  the  frontier  wife,  mother, 
sister,  and  daughter  have  accomplished  in  their 
capacities  as  emotional  and  sympathetic  beings? 
How  many  fevered  brows  have  they  cooled,  how 
many  gloomy  moods  have  they  illumined,  how  many 
wavering  hearts  have  they  stayed  and  confirmed ! 

This  service  of  the  heart  is  rendered  so  freely  and 
so  often  that  it  ceases  to  attract  the  attention  it  merits. 
Like  the  vital  air  and  sunshine,  it  is  so  free  and  spon- 
taneous that  one  rarely  pauses  to  thank  God  for  it. 
The  outflow  of  sympathy,  the  kind  word  or  act,  and 
all  the  long  sacrifice  of  woman's  days  pass  too  often 
without  a  thought,  or  a  word,  from  those  who  perhaps 
might  droop  and  die  without  them.  ,    v 


m 


■ 


■  Vu 


484 


THE  COMFORTER  AND  TEE  GUARDIAN. 


England  has  its  "Westminster  Abbey,  beneath  whose 
clustered  arches  statesmen,  philanthropists,  warriors, 
and  kings  repose  in  a  mausoleum,  whither  men  repair 
to  gaze  at  the  monumental  bust,  the  storied  urn,  and 
proud  epitaph;  but  where  is  the  mausoleum  which 
preserves  the  names  and  virtues  of  those  gentle,  un- 
obtrusive women — the  heroines  and  comforters  of  the 
frontier  home  ?  In  the  East,  the  simple  slabs  of  stone 
which  record  their  names  have  crumbled  into  the  dust 
of  the  churchyard.  In  the  far  West,  they  sleep  on 
the  prairie  and  mountain  slope,  with  scarcely  a  memo- 
rial to  mark  the  spot. 

Nowhere  more  strongly  are  the  manifestations  of 
heart-power  shown  than  among  the  women  of  ou< 
remote  border.  Speaking  of  them,  one  who  long 
lived  in  that  region  says.  If  you  are  sick,  there  ia 
nothing  which  sympathy  and  care  can  devise  or  per- 
form, which  is  not  done  for  you.  No  sister  ever  hung 
over  the  throbbing  brain,  or  fluttering  pulse,  of  a 
brother  with  more  tenderness  and  fidelity.  This  is  as 
true  of  the  lady  whose  hand  has  only  figured  her 
embroidery  or  swept  her  guitar,  as  of  the  cottage-girl, 
wringing  from  her  laundry  the  foam  of  the  mountain 
stream.  If  I  must  be  cast,  in  sickness  or  destitution, 
on  the  care  of  a  stranger,  let  it  be  in  California ;  but 
let  it  be  before  avarice  has  hardened  the  heart  and 
made  a  god  of  gold." 

What  is  said  of  the  California  wives,  mothers,  and 
sisters,  may,  with  equal  force,  be  applied  to  woman 
throughout  the  whole  vast  mountain  region,  including 
ten  immense  states  and  territories.  In  the  raining 
districts,  on  the  wild  cattla  ranche,  in  the  eyrie, 
perched,  like  an  eagle's  nest,  on  the  crest  of  those 


SOLDIERS'  WIVES  IN  FRONTIER  FORTS. 


485 


sky-piercing  summits,  or  on  the  secluded  valley  farm, 
wherever  there  is  a  home  to  be  brightened,  a  sick  bed 
to  be  tended,  or  a  wounded  spirit  to  be  healed,  there 
is  woman  seen  as  a  minister  of  comfort,  consolation, 
and  joy. 

The  military  posts  on  the  frontier  have  long  had 
reason  to  thank  the  wives  of  the  soldiers  and  officers 
for  their  kindness,  manifested  in  numberless  ways. 

One  of  these  ladies  was  Mrs.  R ,  who  accom- 
panied her  husband  to  his  post  on  the  Rio  Grande,  in 
1856. 

Here  she  remaineu  with  him  for  more  than  three 
years,  till  that  grand  mustering  of  all  the  powers  of 
the  Republic  to  the  long  contested  battle-grounds 
along  the  Potomac.  Their  life  on  the  Mexican  fron- 
tier was  full  of  interest,  novelty,  and  adventure.  The 
First  Artillery  was  often  engaged  in  repulsing  the 
irregular  and  roving  bands  of  Cortinas,  who  rode 
over  the  narroAv  boundary  river  in  frequent  raids  and 
stealing  expeditions  into  Texas.  When  in  camp,  Mrs. 
Kicketts  greatly  endeared  herself  to  the  men  in  her 
husband's  company  by  constant  acts  of  kindness  to 
the  sick,  and  by  showing  a  cheerful  and  lively  disposi- 
tion amid  .ill  the  hardships  and  annoyances  of  garrison 
life,  at  such  a  distance  from  home  and  from  the 
comforts  and  refinements  of  our  American  civiliza- 
tion. 

She  was  a  spirit  of  mercy  as  well  as  good  cheer ; 
and  many  a  poor  fellow  knew  that,  if  he  could  but 
get  her  ear,  his  penance  in  the  guard-house  for  some 
violation  of  the  regulations,  would  be  far  less  severe 
on  account  of  her  gentle  and  womanly  plea. 

She  afterwards  shared  her  husband's  imprisonmei^t 


486 


THE  COMFORTER  AND  THE  GUARDIAN. 


in  Richmond, 
wounded   and 


Captain  R had  been  severely 

grew   rapidly  worse.    The   gloomiest 


forebodings  pressed  like  ^ead  upon  the  brave  heart  of 
the  devoted  wife.  Again  the  surgeons  consulted  over 
his  dreadfully  swollen  leg,  and  prescribed  amputation ; 
and  again  it  was  spared  to  the  entreaties  of  his  wife, 
who  was  certain  that  his  now  greatly  enfeebled  condi- 
tion would  not  survive  the  shock.  Much  of  the  time 
he  lay  unconscious,  and  for  weeks  his  life  depended 
entirely  on  the  untiring  patience  and  skill  with  which 
his  wife  soothed  down  the  rudeness  of  his  prison- 
house,  cheering  him  and  other  prisoners  who  were  so 
fortunate  as  to  be  in  the  room  with  him,  and  alleviat- 
ing the  slow  misery  that  was  settling  like  a  pall  upon 
him. 

As  the  pebble  which  stirs  the  lake  in  wider  and 
ever  wider  circles,  so  the  genial  emotion  which  begins 
in  the  family  extends  to  the  neighborhood,  and  some- 
times embraces  the  whole  human  race.  Hence  arises 
the  philanthropic  kindness  of  some,  and  the  large- 
hearted  charity  that  is  willing  to  labor  anywhere  and 
in  any  manner  to  relieve  the  wants  of  all  who  are 
suffering  pain  or  privation. 

In  all  our  wars  from  the  Revolutionary  contest  to 
the  present  time,  woman's  work  in  the  army  hospitals, 
and  even  on  the  battle-lield,  as  a  nurse,  has  been  a 
crown  to  womanhood  and  a  blessing  to  our  civilization 
and  age.  Many  a  life  that  had  hitherto  been  marked 
only  by  the  domestic  virtues  and  the  charities  of 
home,  became  enlarged  and  ennobled  in  this  wider 
sphere  of  duty. 

Wrestling  in  grim  patience  with  unceasing  pain ; 
to  lie  weak  and  helpless,  thinking  of  the  loved  ones 


IN  ARMY  HOSPITALS. 


487 


ion 

ced 

of 

der 


on  the  far  o£E  hillside,  or  thirsty  with  unspeakable 
longing  for  one  draught  of  cold  water  from  the  spring 
by  the  big  rock  at  the  old  homestead ;  to  yearn, 
through  long,  hot  nights,  for  one  touch  of  the  cool, 
soft  hand  of  a  sister  or  a  wife  on  the  throbbing 
temples,  the  wounded  soldier  saw  with  joy  unspeak- 
able the  coming  of  these  ministering  angels.  Then 
the  great  gashes  would  be  bathed  with  cooling  washes, 
or  the  grateful  draught  poured  between  the  thin, 
chalky  lips,  or  the  painful,  inflamed  stump  would  be 
lifted  and  a  pad  of  cool,  soft  lint,  fitted  under  it. 
These  ministrations  carried  with  them  a  moral  cheer 
and  a  soothing  that  was  more  salutary  and  healing 
than  medicines  and  creature  comforts. 

The  poor  wounded  soldier  was  assured  in  tones,  to 
whose  pleasant  and  homelike  accents  his  ear  had  long 
been  a  stranger,  that  his  valor  should  not  be  forgotten, 
that  they  too  had  a  son,  a  brother,  a  father,  or  a 
husband  in  the  army.  After  a  pallid  face  and  bony 
fingers  w'ere  bathed,  sometimes  a  chapter  in  the  New 
Testament  or  a  paragraph  from  the  newspapers  would 
be  read  in  tones  low  but  distinct,  in  grateiul  contrast 
to  the  hoarse  battle  shouts  that  had  been  lingering  in 
his  ear  for  w«;eks. 

Then  the  good  lady  would  act  as  amanuensis  for 
some  poor  fellow  who  had  an  armless  sleeve,  and  wrHe 
down  for  loving  eyes  and  heavy  hearts  in  some  dx-;.aiit 
village  the  same  old  soldier's  story,  told  a  thousand 
times  by  a  thousand  firesides,  but  always  more  charm- 
ing than  any  story  in  the  Arabian  Nights, — how,  on 
that  great  day,  he  stood  with  his  company  on  a 
hillside,  and  saw  the  long  line  of  the  enemy  come 
rolling   across   the   valley;    how,  when  the   cannon 


V.| 


488 


THE  COMFORTER  AND  THE  GUARDIAN. 


opened  on  thoni;  he  could  see  the  rough,  ragged  gaps 
opening  in  the  line ;  how  they  closed  up  and  moved 
on  J  how  this  friend  fell  on  one  side,  and  poor  Jimmy 

on  the  other;  and  then  he  felt  a  general  crash, 

and  a  burning  pain,  and  the  musket  dropped  out  of 
his  hand ;  then  the  ambulance  and  the  amputation, 
and  what  the  surgeon  said  about  his  pluck ;  and  then 
the  weakness,  and  the  pain,  and  the  hunger ;  and  how 
much  better  he  was  nowj  and  how  kind  the  ladies 
had  been  to  him. 

Such  offices  as  these  lift  woman  above  the  plane  of 
earthly  experience  and  place  her  a  little  lower  than 
the  angels.  Only  she  can  fill  the  measure  of  such 
duties,  and  only  she  does  fill  them. 

Among  the  deities  of  the  Eastern  Pantheon,  the 
god  representing  the  destroyer  is  embodied  under  the 
form  of  a  man,  while  the  preserver  is  symbolized 
under  the  form  of  a  woman.  This  is  an  adaptation  in 
Polytheism  of  a  great  and  true  idea.  Woman  is  a 
preserver.  Her's  is  the  conservative  influence  of 
society.  It  is  from  man  that  the  destructive  forces 
that  shake  the  social  organization  emanate.  He  wars 
on  his  kind  and  the  earth  shakes  under  the  tread  of 
his  armies.  He  organizes  those  mighty  revolutionary 
movements  which  pull  down  the  fabric  of  states.  He 
is  restless,  aggressive,  warlike.  But  it  is  woman's 
province  to  keep.     Her  mission  is  peace. 

A  party  of  soldiers  passing  through  the  western 
wilds,  sees  in  the  distance  a  body  of  horsemen 
approaching.  Cocking  their  rifles  and  putting  them- 
selves in  a  defensive  attitude,  they  prepare  for  battle. 
But  when  they  see  that  there  are  women  among  the 


WOMAN  THE  MISSIONARY  OF  PEACE. 


489 


riders  who  are  galloping  towards  them,  they  relax 
their  line  and  restore  their  rifles  to  their  shoulders. 
They  know  there  will  be  no  battle,  for  woman's 
presence  means  peace. 

Woman  is  the  guardian  of  our  race.  In  the  house- 
hold she  is  saving ;  in  the  family  she  is  protecting,  and 
everywhere  her  influence  is  that  which  keeps. 

It  is  this  characteristic  that  makes  her  presence  on 
the  frontier  so  essential  to  a  successful  prosecution  of 
true  pioneer  enterprises.  The  man's  work  is  one  of 
destruction  and  subjugation.  He  must  level  the  forest, 
break  the  soil,  and  fight  all  the  forces  that  oppose 
him  in  his  progress.  Woman  guards  the  health  and 
life  of  the  household,  hoards  the  stores  of  the  family, 
and  economizes  the  surplus  strength  of  her  husband, 
father,  or  son. 

We  are  speaking  now  of  the  sex  as  it  is  seen  in  a 
hew  country  and  in  remote  settlements.  In  crowded 
cities,  amid  a  superabundant  wealth,  and  an  idle  and 
luxurious  mode  of  life,  we  see  too  often  the  types  of 
selfish,  frivolous,  and  conventional  females  such  as  are 
hardly  known  on  the  border.  But  even  in  these 
populous  districts  the  same  spirit  is  not  unfrequently 
shown,  with  important  results,  in  respect  to  the  ac- 
cumulation of  great  fortunes. 

Some  forty  years  since,  a  capitalist  who  now  counts 
his  fortune  by  the  tens  of  millions,  informed  his  wife 
that  if  he  was  only  in  possession  of  five  thousand  dol- 
lars, he  could  derive  great  gains  from  a  business  into 
which  he  designed  to  enter.  To  his  astonishment  she 
immediately  brought  him  a  bank  book  showing  a  bal- 
ance of  five  thousand  dollars,  the  savings  of  many 
years,  and  told  him  to  use  it  as  he  thought  best. 


490 


■:^ 


TEE  COMFOPTER  AND  THE  GUARDIAN. 


Those  hoardings  judiciously  invested  laid  the  founda- 
tion of  one  of  the  largest  properties  owned  by  a  sin- 
gle man  'ipon  this  continent. 

As  a  conserving  agercy,  the  spirit  and  influence  of 
woman  is  Ox'  course  most  strongly  exerted  within  the 
circle  of  her  own  family.  Here  she  knits  the  ties  that 
hinds  that  ciicle  together,  and  gathers  and  holds  the 
material  and  moral  resources  which  make  the  house- 
hold what  it  is.  When  disaster  comes,  it  is  her  study 
to  prevent  disintegration  and  keep  the  home  uninjured 
and  unbroken.  - 

While  a  family  were  flying  from  a  ferocious  band 
of  tories  during  the  Revolution,  in  the  confusion,  one 
of  the  children  was  left  behind.  It  was  the  eldest 
daughter  who  first  discovered  the  fact,  and  only  she 
dared  to  return  and  save  her  little  brother  from  their 
blood-thirsty  eneraies.  It  was  dark  and  rainy,  and  im- 
minent danger  would  o,ttend  the  eflbrt  to  rescue  the 
lad.  But  the  brave  girl  hastened  back ;  reached  the 
house  still  in  possession  of  the  British ;  begged  the 
sentinel  to  let  her  enter;  and  though  repeatedly 
repulsed  doubled  the  earnestness  of  her  entreaties, 
and  finally  gained  admittance.  She  found  the  child 
in  his  chamber,  hastened  down  stairs  and  passing  the 
gentry,  fled  v.ith  the  shot  whizzing  past  her  head,  and 
with  the  child  soon  joined  the  rest  of  the  family . 

When  deprived  of  her  natural  protector  and  left 
the  sole  guardian  of  her  children  she  becomes  a  pro- 
digy of  watchful  care. 

Some  years  since,  one  of  the  small  islands  on  onr 
coast  war  inhabited  by  a  single  poor  family.  The 
father  was  taken  suddenly  ill.  There  was  no  physi- 
cian.    The  wife,  on  whom  every  labor  for  the  house- 


BURYING  THE  DEAD. 


491 


hold  devolveu,  was  sleepless  in  care  and  tender- 
ness by  the  bedside  of  her  suffering  husband.  Every 
remedy  in  her  power  to  procure  was  administered,  but 
the  disease  was  acute^  and  he  died. 

Seven  young  children  mourned  around  the  lifeless 
corpse.  They  were  the  sole  beings  upon  that  desolate 
spot.  Did  the  mother  indulge  the  grief  of  her  spirit, 
and  sit  down  in  despair  ?  No !  she  entered  upon  th6 
arduous  and  sacred  duties  of  her  station.  She  felt  that 
there  was  no  hand  to  assist  her  in  burying  her  dead. 
Providing,  ar  far  as  possible,  for  the  comfort  of  her  lit- 
tle ones,  she  put  her  babe  into  the  arms  of  the  oldest, 
and  charged  the  two  next  in  age  to  watch  the  corpse 
of  their  father.  She  uninoored  her  husband's  fishing 
boat,  which,  but  two  days  before,  he  had  guided  over 
the  seas  to  obtain  food  for  his  family.  She  dared  not 
vield  to  those  tender  recollections  which  might  have 
unnerved  her  arm.  The  nearest  island  was  at  the  dis- 
tance of  three  miles.  Strong  winds  lasiied  the  waters 
to  foam.  Over  the  loud  billows,  that  wearied  and 
sorrowful  woman  rowed,  and  was  preserved.  She 
reached  the  next  island,  and  obtained  the  necessary 
aid.  With  such  energy  did  her  duty  to  her  desolate 
babes  inspire  her,  that  the  voyage  which  depended 
upon  her  indi';  dual  effort  was  performed  in  a  shorter 
time  than  the  returning  one,  when  the  oars  were  man- 
aged by  two  men,  who  went  to  assist  in  the  last  offices 
Vj  the  dead. 

But  female  influence  in  the  way  of  conservation, 
is  not  bounded  by  the  narrow  limits  of  home,  family, 
and  kindred.  Tt  is  also  seen  on  a  wider  field  and  in 
the  preservation  of  other  interests.  The  property, 
health;  and  life  of  strangers  often  become  the  object  of 


492 


THE  COMFORTER  AND  TEE  GUARDIAN. 


woman's  careful  guardianship.  Nearly  thirty  years 
since  a  heavily  freighted  vessel  set  sail  from  an  English 
port  bound  for  the  Pacific  coast.  After  a  voyage  of 
more  than  three  months  it  reached  the  Sandwich 
Islands,  and  after  remaining  there  a  week,  sailed  in 
the  direction  of  Oregon  and  British  Columbia. 

When  two  days  out  from  Honolulu,  the  captain  and 
mate  were  taken  down  with  fever,  which  not  only 
confined  them  to  their  berths;  but  by  its  delirium  in- 
capacitated them  from  giving  instructions  respecting 
the  navigation  of  the  vessel.  The  third  officer,  upon 
whom  the  command  devolved,  was  shortly  afterwards 
washed  overboard  and  lost  in  a  gale.  The  rest  of  the 
crew  were  of  the  most  common  and  ignorant  class  of 
sailors,  not  even  knowing  how  to  read  and  write. 
The  heavens,  overspread  with  clouds  which  obscured 
both  the  sun  and  the  stars,  was  a  sealed  book  to  the 
man  at  the  wheel,  and  the  good  ship,  at  the  mercy  of 
the  winds  and  waves,  was  drifting  they  knew  not 
whither. 

At  this  juncture  the  wife  of  the  captain  stepped 
to  the  front,  and  boldly  a&sunied  the  command.  She 
had  been  reared  on  Cape  Cod,  and  was  a  woman  of 
uncommon  intelligence  and  strength  of  character. 
Her  husband,  in  the  early  stages  of  his  illness,  had 
thoughtfully  instructed  her  in  the  rudiments  of  navi- 
gation, and  foreseeing  that  such  knowledge  might  be 
the  means  of  enabling  her  to  steer  the  ship  safely  to 
port,  she  diligently  employed  every  moment  that  she 
could  spare  from  the  necessary  attendance  on  the  sick 
men,  in  studying  the  manual  of  navigation.  She  soon 
learned  how  to  calculate  latitude  and  longitude.  When 
the  third  officer  was  washed  overboard  she  knew  that  all 


THE  CAPTAIN'S  WIFE. 


493 


must  then  depend  upon  her,  and  at  once  put  herself 
in  communication  with  the  steersman,  and  instructed 
him  as  to  their  true  position.  The  men  all  recognized 
the  value  of  her  knowledge,  and  obeyed  her  as  if  she 
had  been  their  chief  from  the  outset.  The  correctness 
of  her  calculations  was  soon  proved,  and  such  was  her 
firmness  and  kindness  wliile  in  comn^and,  that  the 
sailors  came  to  regard  her  as  a  superior  being  w^o  had 
been  sent  from  heaven  to  help  them  out  of  thoir  dan- 
gers. The  clouds  at  length  cleared  away,  the  wind 
subsided,  and  after  a  voyage  of  twenty-five  days,  the 
ship  made  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia  River.  Mean- 
while by  diligant  nursing  she  had  also  contributed  to 
save  the  live^,  of  her  husband  and  his  second  officer. 
But  for  her  knowledge  and  firmness  it  was  acknowl- 
edged by  all  that  the  ship  would  have  been  lost ;  and 
a  large  salvage  was  allowed  her  by  the  owners  as  a 
reward  for  her  energy  and  intelligence  in  saving  the 
vessel  and  its  valuable  cargo. 

Another  of  these  guardians  on  in  deep  was  Mrs. 
Spalding,  of  Georgia.  She  was  one  of  those  patriot 
women  of  the  Revolution  of  whom  we  hri  ^  already 
spoken.  The  part  she  bore  in  that  struggle,  aid  the 
anxieties  to  which  she  had  been  necessarily  subjected, 
so  impaired  her  health  that  some  years  after  the  ter- 
mination of  the  war  an  ocean  voyage  and  a  European 
climate  was  prescribed  for  her  restoration. 

While  crossing  the  Atlantic  a  large  ship  painted 
black,  carrying  twelve  guns,  was  seen  to  windward 
running  across  their  course.  She  was  evidently  either 
a  privateer  or  a  pirate.  As  there  was  no  hope  of  out- 
sailing  her,  it  was  judged  best  to  boldly  keep  the  ves- 


494 


THE  COMFORTER  AND  THE  GUARDIAN. 


sel  on  her  course,  trusting  that  its  size  and  appearance 
might  deter  the  strange  craft  from  attacking  it. 

Mr.  Spalding,  realizing  the  danger  of  their  situation, 
and  not  daring  to  trust  himself  with  an  interview  till 
the  crisis  was  past,  requested  the  captain  to  go  below 
and  do  what  he  could  for  the  security  of  his  family. 

The  captain  on  visiting  the  cabin,  found  that  Mrs. 
Spaldlhg  had  placed  her  daughter-in-law  and  the  other 
inmates  of  the  cabin,  for  safety,  in  the  two  state-rooms, 
filling  the  berths  with  the  cots  and  bedding  from  the 
outer  cabin.  She  had  then  taken  her  station  beside 
the  scuttle,  which  led  from  the  outer  cabin  to  the 
magazine,  with  two  buckets  of  water.  Having  noticed 
that  the  two  cabin-boys  were  heedless,  she  had  de- 
termined herself  to  keep  watch  over  the  magazine. 
She  did  so  till  the  danger  was  past.  The  captain  took 
in  his  light  sails,  hoisted  his  boarding  nettings,  opened 
his  ports,  and  stooci  un  upon  his  course.  The  privateer 
waited  till  the  ship  wi^s  within  a  mile,  then  fired  a  gun 
to  windward,  and  stood  on  her  way.  This  ruse  pre- 
served the  ship. 

America,  like  England,  has  had  her  Grace  Darlings, 
whose  lives  have  been  devoted  to  the  rescue  of  drown- 
ing sailors.  Such  a  life  was  that  of  Kate  Moore,  who 
some  years  since  resided  on  a  secluded  island  in  the 
Sound.  Disasters  frequently  occur  to  vessels  which 
are  driven  round  Montauk  Point,  and  sometimes  in 
the  Sound  when  they  are  homew  ard  bound ;  and  at 
such  times  she  was  always  on  the  alert.  She  had  so 
thoroughly  cultivated  the  sense  of  hearing,  that  she 
could  distinguish  amid  the  howling  storm  the  shrieks 
Df  the  drowning  mariners,  and  thu>  direct  a  boat, 
.vhich  she  had  learned  to  manage  most  dexterously, 


MISS  MOORE'S  DARING. 


495 


in  the  darkest  night,  to  the  spot  where  a  fellow  mortal 
was  perishing.  Though  well  educated  and  refined, 
she  possessed  none  of  the  aflfected  delicacy  which 
char'^oterizes  too  many  town-bred  misses,  but,  adapt- 
ing herself  to  the  peculiar  exigencies  of  her  father's 
humble  yet  honorable  calling,  she  was  ever  ready  to 
lend  a  helping  hand,  and  shrank  from  no  danger  if 
duty  pointed  that  way.  In  the  gloom  and  terror  of  the 
stormy  night,  amid  perils  at  all  hours  of  the  day  and 
all  ser,sons  of  the  year,  she  launched  her  barque  on 
the  threatening  waves,  and  assisted  her  aged  and 
feeble  father  in  saving  the  lives  of  twenty-one  persons 
daring  the  last  fifteen  years.  Such  conduct,  like  that 
of  Grace  Darling,  to  whom  Kate  Moore  has  been  justly 
compared,  needs  no  comment ;  it  stamps  its  moral  at 
once  and  indelibly  upon  the  heart  of  every  reader. 

That  great  land  ocean  which  stretches  southwest- 
ward  from  Fort  Leavenworth  on  the  Missouri,  ^o  the 
fountains  of  the  great  rivers  of  Texas,  has  its  perils  to 
be  guarded  against  as  well  as  the  stormy  Atlantic. 
The  voyagers  over  that  expanse,  as  well  as  the  marin- 
ers on  the  ocean,  have  not  seldom  owed  their  safety  to 
the  watchfulness  of  the  prairie  woman,  who  possesses, 
in  common  with  her  more  cultivated  and  conventional 
sisters,  a  keen  insight  into  character.  This  enables 
her  to  take  early  note  of  danger  arising  from  the 
agency  of  bad  men,  and  avoid  it. 

In  1858,  a  gentleman,  accompanied  by  a  Creek  In- 
dian as  a  guide,  while  escorting  his  sister  to  her  hus- 
band, who  was  stationed  at  Fort  Wayne,  in  the  Indian 
Territory,  near  the  southwest  corner  of  Missouri,  lost 
the  trail,  and  the  party  found  themselves,  at  nightfall, 
in  an  immense  plain,  which  showed  no  signs  of  any 


496 


THE  COMFORTER  AND  THE  GUARDIAN. 


habitation.  Riding  southward  in  the  darkness,  they 
saw,  at  last,  a  light  twinkling  in  the  distance,  and, 
directing  their  course  toward  it,  they  discovered  that 
it  proceeded  from  the  window  of  a  lonely  cabin. 
Knocking  at  the  door,  a  man  of  singularly  repulsive 
appearance  responded  to  the  summons — invited  them 
in.  Three  rough-looking  characters  were  sitting 
around  the  fire.  The  hospitalities  of  the  cabin  were 
bargained  for,  the  horses  and  Indian  being  quartered 
in  a  shed,  while  the  gentleman  and  his  sister  were 
provided  with  shakedowns  in  the  two  partitions  of  the 
loft.  The  only  inmates  of  the  house  besides  the  four 
•whom  we  have  mentioned  was  a  girl  some  fifteen 
years  of  age,  the  daughter  of  one  of  the  men.  The 
lady,  who  was  very  much  fatigued,  was  waited  upon 
by  this  girl,  who  moved  about  as  if  she  was  in  a 
dream.  She  was  very  pale,  and  had  a  look  as  if  she 
was  repressing  some  great  fear,  or  was  burdened  hy 
some  terrible  secret. 

When  she  accompanied  the  lady  to  her  sleeping 
apartment,  she  whispered  to  her  hurriedly  that  she 
wished  to  speak  to  her  brother,  but  begged  her  to  call 
him  without  making  any  noise,  as  their  lives  depended 
upon  their  preserving  silence.  The  lady,  though 
astonished  and  terrified  at  such  a  revelation  at  that 
hour  and  place,  checked  the  exclamation  which  rose 
to  her  lips,  and,  lifting  the  partition  of  cotton  cloth 
which  hung  between  the  apartments,  in  a  low  tone 
asked  her  brother  to  come  and  hear  what  the  girl  had 
to  say. 

Her  information  was  of  a  terrible  character.  They 
were,  she  said,  in  a  den  of  murderers.  She  knew  not 
how  they  could  escape,  unless  by  a  miracle.    It  was 


■■n 


DEATH  OF  THE  ASSASSINS. 


497 


the  intention  of  the  assassins,  she  believed,  to  murder 
and  rob  the  whole  party.  Then,  telling  them  to  keep 
awake  and  be  on  their  guard,  she  glided  down  to  the 
room  below.  The  brother  and  sister,  listening  sharply 
for  a  few  minutes,  heard  the  girl  say  in  a  loud  tone, 
as  if  she  intended  the  guests  should  hear  her,  that  she 
was  going  out  to  the  shed  to  look  for  her  ear-ring, 
which  she  believed  she  had  dropped  th ore.  They  sur- 
mised she  was  going  to  put  the  Indian  on  his  guard. 

The  gentleman  had  a  pair  of  revolvers,  and  resolved 
to  sell  his  life  dearly,  should  he  be  attacked.  Peering 
down  into  the  room  below,  he  saw,  by  the  dim  light, 
the  ruffians  making  preparations  for  bloody  work. 
Axes,  knives,  pistols,  and  guns  had  been  brought  out, 
and,  in  low  whispers,  the  miscreants  were  evidently 
discussing  the  plan  of  attack.  Sometime  after  mid- 
night two  of  the  men  stole  out  of  the  door,  with  the 
obvious  intention  of  killing  the  Indian,  as  the  first  act 
in  the  bloody  drama.  For  a  few  minutes  after  their 
disappearance  all  was  still,  and  then  the  silence  was 
broken  by  two  pistols  shots  in  quick  succession,  fol- 
lowed by  a  triumphant  war-whoop,  which  served  to 
tell  the  story.  The  Indian,  who  was  also  armed  with 
a  revolver,  must  have  shot  his  two  assailants.  The 
gentleman  fired  down  the  hatchway  of  the  loft,  killing 
one  of  the  villains  as  he  was  running  out  of  the  door. 
The  other,  after  shouting  loudly  for  his  partners  in 
murder,  took  to  his  heels  and  fled  away. 

It  appeared  that  the  Indian  guide,  having  been 
notified  of  his  danger  by  the  girl,  rose  from  his  bed 
and  ensconced  himself  behind  the  shed.  When  the 
two  men  came  out  to  attack  him,  he  shot  them  both 
dead,  and  then  waited,  expecting  that  the  others 
32 


498 


THE  COMFORTER  AND  THE  GUARDIAN. 


would  have  come  out  and  furnished  him  with  a  new 
target. 

The  girl  came  out  of  her  hiding  place,  whither  she 
had  run  on  hearing  the  shots,  and  looked  sharply  into 
the  faces  of  the  three  dead  ruffians,  and  finding  that 
her  father  was  not  among  them,  expressed  her  joy 
that  her  unworthy  parent  had  escaped  the  fate  he 
richly  deserved. 

She  told  her  story  to  the  gentleman  and  lady  while 
they  were  standing  on  guard  and  waiting  for  the 
morning  to  dawn.  It  appeared  that  she  had  been 
brought  to  the  den  a  few  days  before  by  her  father^ 
and  had  become  knowing  to  a  murder  which  he  .and 
his  companions  had  committed.  Her  mother,  a  pious 
woman,  had  instructed  her  daughter  in  the  principles 
of  Christianity,  and  had  checked  the  evil  propensities  of 
her  husband  as  long  as  she  lived,  but  after  her  death, 
which  had  taken  place  shortly  before  the  events  we 
have  been  describing,  all  constraint  had  been  removed 
from  the  evil  propensities  of  the  misguided  man,  and 
he  joined  the  murderous  gang  who  had  just  met  their 
fate. 

The  natural  goodness  of  the  young  girl's  nature, 
fostered  by  the  teachings  of  her  guardian  mother, 
thus  exerted  itself  to  save  three  lives  from  the  assas- 
sin's stroke. 

She  gladly  accompanied  the  lady  on  her  route  the 
following  morning,  and  ever  remained  her  attached 

Montana  is  one  of  the  newest  and  wildest  of  our 
territories.  Its  position  so  far  to  the  north  and  the 
peculiarly  rugged  face  of  the  country,  make  it  the  fit- 
ting abode  for  the  genius  of  the  storms.     Gathering 


A  FEARFUL  SyOWSTORil. 


49a 


their  battalions  the  tempests  sweep  the  summits  and 
whirling  round  the  flanks  of  the  mountains,  roar 
through  the  deep,  lonely  gorges  with  a  sound  louder 
than  the  ocean  surges  in  a  hurricane.  The  snows  fill 
the  ravines  in  drifts  one  hundred  feet  in  depth,  and 
such  are  the  rigors  of  winter  that  the  women  who  live 
in  the  fur-trading  posts  on  that  section  of  our  north- 
ern border,  are  often  carried  across  the  mountains  into 
Oregon  or  Washington  territory,  to  shield  them  from 
the  severities  of  the  inclement  season. 

Late  in  the  fall  of  1868,  a  party  consisting  of  thirty 
soldiers,  while  faring  on  through  the  mountains  of  that 
territory,  were  overtaken  by  one  of  these  fearful  snow- 
storms. The  wind  blew  from  the  north  directly  in 
their  faces,  and  the  snow  was  soon  piled  in  drifts  which 
put  a  thorough  embargo  upon  their  further  progress. 
Selecting  the  fittest  place  that  could  be  found  they 
pitched  their  tents  on  the  snow,  but  hardly  had  they 
fastened  the  tent  ropes  when  a  blast  lifted  the  tents 
in  a  moment,  and  whirled  them  into  the  sky.  After 
a  night  of  great  suffering  they  found  in  the  morning 
that  all  their  mules  were  missing.  They  had  probably 
strayed  or  been  driven  by  the  fury  of  the  blast  into  a 
deep  ravine  south  of  the  camp,  where  they  had  been 
buried  beneath  the  enormous  drifts. 

The  storm  raged  and  the  snow  fell  nearly  all  day. 
The  rations  were  all  gone,  and  progress  against  the 
wind  and  through  the  drifts  was  impossible.  Another 
night  of  such  bitter  cold  and  exposure  would  in  all 
probability  be  their  last. 

They  shouted  in  unison,  but  their  shouts  were 
drowned  in  the  shrieks  of  the  tempest.  Towards  night 
the  storm  lulled  and  again  they  shouted,  but  no  sound 


500 


THE  COMFORTER  AND  THE  GUARDIAN. 


came  back  but  the  sigh  of  the  blast.  Help!  help! 
they  cried.  Unhappy  men,  could  help  come  to  them 
except  from  on  high !  What  was  left  to  them  but  to 
wind  their  martial  cloaks  around  them  and  die  like 
soldiers  in  the  path  of  duty  ! 

But  what  God-sent  messenger  is  this  coming  through 
the  drifts  to  meet  them  ?  Not  a  woman  !  Yes,  a  poor, 
weak  woman  has  heard  their  despairing  cry  and  has 
hastened  to  succor  them.  Drenched  and  shivering 
with  the  storm  she  told  them  to  follow  her,  and  con- 
ducted them  to  a  recess  in  the  crags,  where  beneath  an 
overhanging  ledge  and  between  projecting  cliffs,  a  spa' 
cious  shelter  was  afforded  them.  They  crowded  in  and 
warmed  their  numbed  limbs  before  a  great  fire,  while 
their  preserver  brought  out  her  stores  of  food  for  th( 
wayfarers. 

But  how  could  a  woman  be  there  in  the  heart  ot 
the  mountains  in  the  wintry  weather,  with  only  the 
storm  to  speak  to  her? 

Her  husband  was  a  miner  and  she  a  brave  and  self- 
reliant  woman.  He  had  left  her  two  weeks  before  to 
carry  his  treasure  of  gold  dust  to  the  nearest  settle- 
ment. She  was  all  a/owe  .-^  J. Zo??e  in  that  rock-encom- 
passed cabin  in  the  realms  of  desolation,  and  still  the 
heroine-guardian  who  had  snatched  thirty  fellow  be- 
ings from  the  jaws  of  death. 

Solitude  is  the  theatre  where  untold  thousands  of 
devoted  women — the  brave,  the  good,  the  loving — for 
ages  past  have  acted  their  unviewed  and  unrecorded 
dramas  in  the  great  battle  of  frontier  life.  Warriors 
and  statesmen  have  their  meed  of  praise,  and  crowds 
surround  them  to  throw  the  wreath  of  laurel  or  of  bay 
upon  their  fainting  brows,  or  to  follow  their  plumed 


WOMAN  AS  AN  EDUCATOR. 


501 


hearse  to  the  mausoleum  which  a  grateful  people  has 
raised  to  their  memory. 

"  Yet  it  may  be  a  higher  courage  dwells 
In  one  meek  heart  which  braves  an  adverse  fate, 

Than  his  whose  ardent  soul  indignant  swells. 
Warmed  by  the  fight  or  cheered  through  high  debate, 

The  soldier  dies  surrounded :  could  he  live 

Alone  to  suffer  and  alone  to  strive  ?" 


•  ♦» 


ds 


CHAPTEE  XXI. 

WOMAN  AS  AN  EDUCATOR  ON  THE  FRONTIER. 

^'TTTITHIN  the  house,  within  the  family  the 
»  V  woman  is  all :  she  is  the  inspiring,  moulding, 
embellishing,  and  controlling  power."  This  terse  de- 
scription of  woman's  influence  in  the  household  applies 
ivith  double  force  and  significance  to  the  position  of 
the  pioneer  wife  and  mother.  Her  life  in  that  position 
was  one  long  battle,  one  long  labor,  one  long  trial, 
one  long  sorrow.  Out  of  this  varied,  searching,  con- 
tinuous educational  process  came  discipline  of  the  body, 
of  the  mind,  and  of  the  whole  moral  nature.  Adver- 
sity, heu 

"Stem,  rugged  nurse,  whose  ligid  lore, 
With  patience,  many  a  year,  she  bore," 

taught  her  the  practice  of  the  heroic  as  well  as  of  the 
gentler  virtues ;  courage,  labor,  fortitude,  plain  living, 
charity,  sobriety,  pity.  In  that  school  these  virtues 
became  habitual  to  her  mind,  because  their  practice 


502      WOMAN  AS  AN  EDUCATOR  ON  THE  FRONTIER. 

was  enforced  by  the  stress  of  circumstances.  Daily 
and  nightly,  in  those  homes  on  the  frontier,  there  is 
some  danger  to  be  faced,  some  work  to  be  done,  some 
suffering  to  be  borne  or  some  self-denial  to  be  exer- 
cised, some  sufferer  to  be  relieved  or  some  sympathy 
to  be  extended. 

There  is  a  two-fold  result  from  this  educational  pro- 
cess :  first,  the  transmission,  by  the  law  of  hereditary 
descent,  of  marked  traits  of  character  to  her  children, 
who  show,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  their  mother's 
nature  as  developed  in  this  severe  school;  second, 
woman  becomes  fitted  to  mould  the  character  and  in- 
struct the  mind  of  her  children  in  the  light  of  her  own 
experience  and  discipline.  Woman  is  the  great  edu- 
cator of  the  frontier. 

Within  the  first  half  of  the  18th  century,  in  that 
narrow  belt  of  thinly  settled  country  which  follows 
the  indentation  of  the  Atlantic  ocean,  in  lonely  cabins 
in  the  forest,  or  on  th^  hill-slope,  or  by  the  unvisited 
sea,  most  of  the  representative  men  of  our  Revolu- 
tionary Era  first  saw  the  light,  and  were  pillowed  on 
the  breasts  of  the  frontier  mothers. 

The  biographical  records  of  our  country  are  bright 
with  the  names  of  men — the  brave,  the  wise,  the 
good — who  were  born  of  pioneer  women,  and  who 
inherited  from  them  those  traits  which,  in  after  life, 
made  them  great  and  illustrious  in  the  learned  profes- 
sions, in  the  camp,  and  in  the  councils  of  their  native 
country.  Who  can  doubt  that  the  daughters,  too,  of 
those  strong  women,  and  the  sisters  of  those  eminent 
men,  inheriting  similar  traits,  exercised  in  their  sphere 
a«  potent  though  silent  an  influence  as  did  their  broth- 
ers in  the  high  stations  to  which  they  were  called. 


MOTHERS'  LESSONS  OF  VIRTUE  AND  GREATNESS.   503 

As  by  a  strain  of  blood,  inherited  traits  come  down 
to  succeeding  generations,  and,  as  from  the  breast  of 
the  mother  the  first  elements  of  bodily  strength  are 
received,  so  from  her  lips  are  obtained  those  first  prin- 
ciples of  good  and  incentives  of  greatness  which  the 
sterner  features  and  blunter  feelings  of  the  father  are 
rarely  sufficient  to  inculcate. 

On  parent  knees,  or  later,  in  intervals  of  work  or 
play,  the  soldier  who  fought  to  make  us  a  free  repub- 
lic, and  the  statesman  who  laid  deep  and  wide  the 
foundations  of  our  constitution,  acquired  from  their 
mothers'  lips  those  lessons  of  virtue  and  duty  which 
made  their  after  careers  so  useful  to  their  country  and 
memorable  in  history. 

We  have  said  that  woman  was  the  great  educator  on 
the  frontier.  She  was  something  more  than  an  educa- 
tor, as  the  term  is  usually  applied.  The  teaching  of 
the  rudiments  of  school-learning  was  a  fraction  in  the 
%um- total  of  her  training  and  influence. 

The  means  of  moulding  and  guiding  the  minds  of 
the  young  upon  the  border  are  very  different  from 
what  they  are  in  more  settled  states  of  society.  Edu- 
cation in  the  older  states  of  the  Union  is  organized  in 
the  district  and  high  school,  in  the  academy  and  the 
college,  and  is  maintained  by  large  taxation  of  the 
town,  city,  or  state.  Here  are  wealth,  aggregations 
of  intelligence,  and  a  surplus  of  the  educated  labor 
class.  Commodious  and  often  beautiful  edifices  shelter 
the  bright  tribes  whom  the  morning  bell  calls  together 
beneath  the  eye  of  cultured  teachers.  Stately  halls 
and  quaint  chapels  are  the  seats  where  the  higher  learn- 
ing is  inculcated ;  the  paraphernalia  of  education  is 
splendid,  the  appliances  are  adequate,  and  the  whole 


504      WOMAN  AS  AN  EDUCATOR  ON  TUE  FRONTIER. 


(■! 


machinery  by  which  knowledge  is  diffused  among  the 
young,  works  with  a  smooth  regularity  that  makes  it 
almost  automatic. 

Contrast  this  system  ■•vhich  prevails  to-day,  and  in 
the  more  settled  conditions  of  American  society,  with 
that  which  prevailed  in  earlier  years  in  a  thinly  and 
newly-inhabited  country,  and  which  now  obtains  on 
our  frontier  lino  and  how  striking  is  the  difterence ! 

Indeed,  how  could  we  look  for  any  such  organism 
where  small  settlements  were  separated  from  ee.h 
other  by  long  spaces  and  bat  roads,  and  where  single 
cabins  were  so  completely  isolated,  "  in  the  New 
England  and  the  Middle  and  Southern  States  a  century 
and  a  half  ago,  or  as  in  the  earlier  settled  St^ates  of 
the  West  seventy  years  ago,  or  as  in  the  newly-settled 
States  of  the  West  within  the  present  generation,  or 
as  on  the  frontier  proper  to-day  ?  Under  such  condi- 
tions even  the  district  school  was  impracticable  or  in- 
accessible. To  supply  its  place,  each  household  where 
th3re  were  children  was  a  training  school,  of  which  the 
mother  was  the  head. 

The  process,  under  he^  eyes  and  hand,  of  forming 
the  mind  •:  nd  character,  is  very  slow,  but  it  is  healthy 
and  natural.  It  is  conducted  in  the  short  interval  of 
severe  toil.  She  reverts  to  first  principles,  and  teaches 
by  objects  rather  than  by  lessons.  It  is  the  character 
that  she  forms  more  than  the  mind. 

She  has  about  her  a  band  of  silent  bir.  powerful  co- 
adjutors. Tiie  sunshine  and  iice  air  of  the  wilde*'ness 
are  poured  aro;md  the  little  stranger,  which  soon 
grows  into  a  handsome,  largely-developed,  vigorous 
nursling. 

The  air  of  the  wilderness,  too,  is  the  native  air  of 


LEESONS  FROM  NATURE. 


505 


freedom:  this,  and  the  ample  space  wherem  the 
young  plant  flourishes,  makes  it  large  in  frame  and 
broad  in  mind  and  character. 

Transplant  a  cypress  from  a  garden  in  a  populous 
community  to  the  deep  black  mould  of  the  west,  and 
it  grows  to  be  a  forest  monarch.  It  is  Hazlitt  who 
says  "  the  heart  reposes  in  greater  security  on  the  im- 
mensity of  nature's  works,  expatiates  freely  there  and 
finds  elbow  room  and  breathing  space.'" 

In  the  log-cabin  there  is  perhaps  but  a  single  room : 
there  is  a  bed,  a  table,  blocks  of  wood  for  chairs,  and 
a  few  wretched  cooking  utensils.  Thank  God  !  The 
life  of  the  pioneer  woman  is  not  ''cribbed  and  con- 
fined "  to  this  hovel.  The  forest,  the  prairie,  the 
mountain-side  are  free  to  her  as  the  vital  air,  and  the 
canopy  of  heaven  is  her  familiar  covering.  A  life  out 
doors  is  a  necessary  part  of  both  the  moral  and  the 
physical  education  of  her  children. 

Riding  through  one  of  the  prairies  of  the  far  West, 
Bome  years  since,  we  arrived  ju£*  at  dusk  iu  front  of  a 
cabin  where  a  mother  was  sitting  with  her  four  young 
children  and  teaching  them  lessons  from  the  great 
book  of  nature.  She  had  shown  them  the  sun  as  it 
set  in  glory,  and  told  them  of  its  rising  and  of  its 
going  down ;  of  the  clouds  and  of  the  winds,  and  how 
(Jod  made  the  grass  and  trees,  and  tho  stars,  which 
ctmie  trooping  out  before  their  eyes.  She  taught 
them,  she  said,  little  as  yei  trom  books.  She  had  but 
a  Bible,  a  catechism,  an  almanac.  The  Bible  was  the 
only  Reader  in  her  little  school.  Already  she-  had 
whispered  in  their  ears  the  story  of  Jesus'  life  and 
death,  and  charged  their  infant  memories  with  the 


506      WOMAN  AS  AN  EDUCATOR  ON  THE  FRONTIER. 

wise  and  beautiful  teachings  of  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount. 

What  a  practical  training  was  that  which  children 
had  in  that  outdoor  knowledge  which  had  been  useful 
to  their  mother!  The  chemistry  of  common  life 
learned  from  the  processes  wrought  out  by  the  air 
and  sunshine;  astronomy  from  the  great  lumina- 
'ries  which  are  the  clocks  of  the  wilderness,  and  the 
science  of  the  weather  from  the  phenomena  of  the 
sky.  There  was  no  "  cramming  "  in  that  home-school ; 
each  item  of  knowledge  was  well  absorbed  and  assim- 
ilated, for  the  mother's  toils  made  the  intervals  long 
between  the  lessons.  So  much  the  better  for  the 
young  heart  and  mind,  which  grows,  swells,  and  gath- 
ers force  unlaced  and  unfettered  by  scholastic  pedan- 
•try  and  repression. 

It  is  from  the  mother,  too,  that  the  boy  or  girl  must 
talce  their  first  lessons  in  the  tillage  of  the  soil,  which 
are  most  readily  learned  in  the  garden,  for  the  wo- 
men are  the  gardeners  of  the  frontier.  Gardening 
is  a  labor  of  patience  and  virtue,  and  is  excellent  dis- 
cipline for  the  character.  A  child's  true  life  is  in  the 
fields,  and  should  be  early  familiarized  with  the  forms 
of  vegetable  life.  No  small  part  of  the  education  of  a 
chjld  may  be  carried  on  by  the  care  and  assiduous 
contemplation  of  Tjlants  and  flowers.  Observation, 
experience,  reflection,  and  reasoning,  would  all  come 
of  it.  A  flower  is  a  whole  world,  pure,  innocent, 
peacemaking. 

Woman's  natural  fitness  for  the  work  of  an  educator 
of  the  human  plant  is  seen  in  the  readiness  and  zeal 
with  which  she  enters  into  this  work  of  tending  and 
training  the  plants  in  a  vegetable  or  flower  garden, 


\^ 


THE  LESSON  OF  LABOR.' 


507 


and  the  garden  is  one  of  the  outdoor  schools  where 
her  little  ones  gain  their  most  useful  instruction.  The 
difference  between  plants,  the  variegation  of  colors, 
their  relations  to  the  air,  the  sunshine,  the  dew,  the 
rain ;  the  habits  of  plants,  some  erect,  some  creeping, 
some  climbing,  the  seasons  of  flowering,  fruitage,  and 
seed,  are  impressed  with  ease  upon  the  plastic  mind 
of  childhood. 

From  the  garden  it  is  but  one  step  to  the  meadow 
and  the  forest.  Here  the  boy  and  girl  sees  nature 
unaided  by  man  working  out  similar  processes  on  a 
grander  scale.  There  is  heroic  force  and  valor  in  the 
trees  and  grasses,  and  the  child  is  early  brought  into 
antagonism  with  thnse  strong  forms  of  wild  nature, 
and  learns  that  he  and  his  parents  live  by  subjugating 
or  converting  them  to  their  use.  This  is  the  lesson  of 
contention  in  carrying  through  a  useful  purpose.  The 
native  sward  is  to  be  overturned  and  a  new  growth 
implanted ;  bushes  are  to  be  torn  up  root  and  branch 
so  that  the  cattle  may  have  pasture ;  the  trees  must 
be  hewn  down  and  cut  into  beams  and  boards. 

Thus,  too,  is  learned  the  great  lesson  of  labor. 
There  is  no  rest  for  the  mother.  The  stove,  the  broom, 
the  needle,  the  hoe,  and  the  axe  are  ever  the  familiar 
implements  of  her  household  husbandry.  The  cows 
and  poultry  are  her  proteg6s.  Her  brown  arms  and 
sunburned  face  are  seen  among  the  mowers  and  reap- 
ers. Endowed  with  the  practical  faculty  for  small 
things,  she  reaches  into  details  which  escape  the 
blunter  Senses  of  the  stronger  sex.  The  necessitief^. 
and  contingencies  of  frontier  life  make  her  variously 
accomplished  in  the  useful  arts.  She  becomes  a  "  jack 
at  all   trades,"  carding,  spinning,  weaving,  cobbling 


I 


508      WOMAN  AS  AN  EDUCATOR  ON  THE  FRONTIER. 

shoes,  fitting  moccasins,  mending  harness,  dressing 
leather,  making  clothes,  serving  as  cook,  dairy-maid, 
laundress,  gardener,  and  nurse.  From  example  and 
from  precept  the  children  learn  the  lesson  of  labor 
from  the  mother. 

The  girls  of  course  remain  longer  than  their  broth- 
ers under  her  tutelage.  Theirs  is  a  lofty  destiny — 
lofty  because  as  wives  and  mothers  they  are  to  carry 
the  shrine  of  civilization  into  the  wilderness,  and  build 
upon  the  desert  and  waste  places  the  structure  of  a 
new  civil  and  social  state.  Serving  as  a  duty  and  a 
pleasure  is  woman's  vocation.  The  great  German 
poet  and  philosopher  has  finely  amplified  this  idea : 

"  Early  let  woman  learn  to  serve,  for  that  is  her  calling, 

Tor  by  serving  alone  she  attains  to  ruling ;  , 

To  the  well-deserved  power  whieh  is  hers  in  the  household. 

The  sister  serves  her  brother  while  young ;  and  serves  her  parents, 

And  her  life  is  still  a  continual  going  and  coming, 

A  carrying  ever  and  bringing,  a  making  and  shaping  for  others. 

Well  for  lier  if  she  learns  to  think  no  road  a  foul  one, 

To  make  the  hours  of  the  night  the  same  as  the  hours  of  the  day ; 

To  think  no  labor  too  trifling,  and  never  too  fine  the  needle  ; 

To  forget  herself  altogether,  and  live  in  others  alone. 

And  lastly,  as  mother,  in  truth,  she  will  need  every  one  of  the  virtues." 


A  French  traveler  in  the  course  of  his  wanderings 
through  the  western  wilds  of  our  country,  came  to  a 
single  cabin  in  one  of  the  remotest  and  most  inacces- 
sible of  our  mountain  territories.  The  only  inmates 
in  that  lonely  home  were  a  middle-aged  woman  and 
four  girls,  ranging  from  eight  to  fifteen.  The  father 
was  a  miner,  who  spent  a  large  part  of  the  time  in 
digging  or  "  prospecting "  for  precious  ores,  as  yet 
with  only  moderate  success.  The  matron  did  the 
work  of  both  man  and  woman.     The  cabin  was  a  mu- 


^r 


THE  "  CHURCH-GOING  BELL." 


609 


seum  of  household  mechanisms  and  implements.  In- 
dependent of  the  clothier,  the  merchant,  and  the  gro- 
cer, their  dress  was  the  furry  covering  of  the  mountain 
beasts ;  their  tea  was  a  decoction  of  herbs ;  their 
sugar  was  boiled  from  the  sap  of  the  maple ;  the 
necessaries  of  life  were  all  of  their  own  culture  and 
manufacture.  Yet,  thanks  to  the  unwearied  toils  of 
the  good  woman  and  her  little  help-meets,  there  was 
warmth,  comfort,  and  abundance,  for  love  and  labor 
were  inhabitants  of  those  rocks. 

The  girls  had  already  been  taught  all  that  their 
mother  knew,  and  she  had  sent  out  to  fight  their  own 
battle,  three  sons,  strong,  brave,  and  versed  in  border- 
lore. 

It  was  my  mother,  said  the  matron,  that  taught  me 
all  that  I  know,  forty  years  ago  in  the  forests  of  Mich- 
igan, and  I  am  trying  to  bring  up  my  girls  so  that 
they  shall  know  everything  that  their  grandmother 
taught  me.  They  could  read,  and  write,  and  cypher. 
They  were  little  farmers,  and  gardeners,  and  seam- 
stresses, and  housewives.  Nor  liad  their  religious  and 
moral  training  been  neglected.  The  good  Book  lay 
well  thumbed  and  dogeared  on  the  kitchen  shelf.  The 
sound  of  the  "  church-going  bell "  had  never  been 
heard  by  those  children,  but  every  Sunday  the  mother 
gathered  them  about  her,  and  they  read  together  from 
the  New  Testament.  "  It  is  ten  vears,"  said  the  mat- 
ron, "  since  1  have  seen  a  church.  I  remember  the 
last  time  I  visited  San  Francisco,  awaking  Sunday 
morning  and  hearing  the  sound  of  the  bell  which 
called  us  to  meeting.  It  was  sweeter  than  heavenly 
music  to  my  ears,  and  I  burst  into  tears."  What  a 
suggestion  was  that,  pointing  to  the  unsatisfied  craving 


i 


510      WOMAN  AS  AN  EDUCATOR  ON  THE  FRONTIER. 

of  that  lonely  heart  for  the  consolation  of  the  proui- 
ises  uttered  by  consecrated  lips!  Right  and  fitting 
it  is  that  woman,  God-beloved  in  old  Jerusalem,  that 
she,  the  last  at  the  cross  and  the  first  at  the  sepulcher, 
though  far  from  the  Sabbath  that  smiles  upon  eastern 
homes,  should  keep  alive  in  the  hearts  of  her  children 
the  remembrance  of  the  Saviour  and  of  the  Lord's 
day. 

Rove  wherever  they  may,  the  sons  and  daughters 
of  the  wilderness  will  find  amid  the  stormiest  lives  a 
safe  anchorage  in  the  holy  keeping  of  the  Christian 
Sabbath,  and  in  the  word  of  God,  for  these  are  the 
best  ovA  surest  legacies  of  a  pious  mother's  precepts. 
A  civilization  in  which  the  early  lispings  of  childhood 
are  of  God  and  Christ,  cannot  become  altogether  cor- 
rupt and  degenerate,  for  woman  here  is  the  depository 
and  transmitter  of  religious*  faith. 

I^rom  the  earliest  times  to  a  comparatively  recent  pe- 
riod, a  large  proportion  of  the  distinguished  men  of  our 
country  have  necessarily  passed  their  first  years  in  re- 
mote settlements,  if  not  on  the  extreme  border  of  civ- 
ilization. The  lives  of  those  men  who  have  risen  to 
eminence  as  generals,  statesmen,  professional  men, 
and  authors,  and.  date  their  success  from  the  lessons 
received  from  woman's  lips  in  the  early  homes  of 
their  childhood,  would  fill  volumes.  We  pass  by  the 
first  generations  of  these  pupils,  and  come  to  the  men 
of  that  period  from  which  to-day  we  date  the  birth  of 
the  Republic. 

The  heroic  age  of  American  statesmanship  com.- 
menced  in  1776.  Of  all  those  illustrious  men  who 
signed  the  immortal  Declaration,  or  framed  the  Con- 
stitution of  the  United  States,  a  considerable  number 


THE  MOTHER  OF  WASHINGTON. 


511 


passed  their  childhood  and  youth  in  secluded  and  re- 
mote settlements.  They  were  the  sons  of  "  "Women 
on  the  American  Frontier."  They  drew  in  with  their 
mother's  milk  the  intellectual  and  moral  traits,  and 
gathered  from  their  mother's  lips  those  lessons  which 
prepared  them  in  after  years  to  guide  the  councils  of 
tiieir  country  in  the  most  trying  period  of  its  history. 
Let  us  commence  the  list  with  the  deathless  name 
of  Washington.  Born  in  a  secluded  and  primitive 
farm-house  at  Bridge's  Creek,  Virginia,  he  was  left  by 
the  death  of  his  father  to  the  care  and  guardianship 
of  his  mother.  "  She,"  says  his  biographer,  "  proved 
herself  worthy  of  the  trust.  Endowed  with  plain, 
direct  good  sense,  thorough  conscientiousness,  and 
prompt  decision,  she  governed  her  family  strictly,  but 
kindly,  exacting  deference  while  she  inspired  affection. 
George,  being  her  eldest  son,  was  thought  to  be  her 
favorite,  yet  she  never  gave  him  undue  preference, 
and  the  impUcit  deference  exacted  from  him  in  child- 
hood continued  to  be  habitually  observed  by  him  to 
the  day  of  her  death.  He  inherited  from  her  a  high 
temper  and  a  spirit  of  command,  but  her  early  pre- 
cepts and  example  taught  him  to  restrain  and  govern 
that  temper,  and  to  square  his  conduct  on  the  exact 
principles  of  equity  and  justice.  Tradition  gives  an 
interesting  picture  of  the  widow,  with  her  little  flock 
gathered  round  her,  as  was  her  wont,  reading  to  them 
lessons  of  religion  and  morality  out  of  some  standard 
work.  Her  favorite  volume  was  Sir  Mathew  Hale's 
Contemplations,  moral  and  divine.  The  admirable 
maxims  therein  contained,  for  outward  action  as  well 
as  self  government,  sank  deep  into  the  mind  of  George, 
and  doubtless  had  a  great  influence  in  forming  his 


1 


512      WOMAN  AS  AN  EDUCATOR  ON  THE  FRONTIER. 

character.  They  certainly  were  exemplified  in  his 
conduct  throughout  life.  His  mother's  manual,  bear- 
ing his  mother's  name,  Mary  Washington,  written 
with  her  own  hand,  was  ever  preserved  by  him  with 
filial  care,  and  may  still  be  seen  in  the  archives  of 
Mount  Vernon.  A  precious  document !  Let  those 
who  wish  to  know  the  moral  foundation  of  his  charac- 
ter, consult  its  pages." 

Among  the  signers  of  the  Declaration  of  Independ- 
ence, Thomas  Jefferson,  the  author  of  that  immortal 
document;  George  Wythe,  afterwards  Chancellor  of 
Virginia;  Francis  Hopkinson,  the  poet  and  patriot; 
Benjamin  Franklin,  Samuel  Huntington,  Edward  Rut- 
ledge,  and  many  others,  have  left  upon  record  testi- 
monials of  their  great  obligations  to  their  mother's 
care  and  teachings. 

In  the  second  era  of  American  statesmanship,  a 
large  number  of  those  most  eminent  for  public  ser- 
vices were  also  born  and  nurtured  on  the  frontier.  A 
cursory  examination  of  the  biographies  of  those  dis- 
tinguished men  will  show  how  largely  they  were  in- 
debted to  the  early  training  which  they  received  from 
their  mothers. 

Incidents  drawn  from  .le  early  life  of  the  seventh 
President  of  the  United  States,  will  prove  with  strik- 
ing clearness  the  lasting  influence  of  a  mother's  teach- 
ings. 

During  one  of  the  darkest  periods  of  the  Revolution, 
and  after  the  massacre  at  Warsaw  by  the  bloodthirsty 
Tarleton,  when  the  British  prison-pens  in  South  Caro- 
lina were  crowded  with  wounded  captive  patriots,  an 
elderly  woman,  with  the  strongly  marked  physiognomy 
which  characterizes  the  Scotch-Irish  race,  could  have 


THE  MOTHER  OF  JACKSON. 


513 


been  seen  moving  among  the  hapless  prisoners,  re- 
lieving their  wants  and  alleviating  their  sufferings. 
She  had  come  the  great  distance,  alone  and  on  foot, 
through  swamps  and  forests,  and  across  rivers,  from  a 
border  settlement,  on  this  errand  of  compassion. 

After  her  work  of  charity  and  mercy  had  been  fin- 
ished, she  set  out  alone  and  on  foot,  as  before,  upon 
her  journey  home.  She  sped  on,  thinking  doubtless 
of  her  sons,  and  most  of  all  of  the  youngest,  a  bright 
and  manly  little  fellow  whom  she  had  watched  over 
and  trained  with  all  of  a  mother's  care  and  tenderness. 
The  way  was  long  and  difficult,  the  unbridged  streams 
were  cold,  the  forest  was  dark  and  tangled.  Wander- 
ing from  her  course,  weary  and  worn  with  her  labors 
of  love  and  pity,  she  sank  down  at  last  and  died. 

That  woman  who  gave  her  life  to  her  country  and 
humanity  was  the  mother  of  Andrew  Jackson,  and 
that  youngest  son,  her  especial  pupil,  was  the  seventh 
president  of  the  United  States.  He  had  lost  his  father 
when  an  infant,  and  his  early  training  devolved  upon 
that  patriot  mother,  from  whom  he  also  inherited  some 
of  those  marked  and  high  traits  of  character  for  which 
he  was  afterwards  so  conspicuous.  She  was  an  earnest 
and  devoted  Christian  woman,  and  strove,  like  the 
mother  of  "Washington,  to  glorify  God  as  much  in  the 
rearing  of  her  children  as  in  the  performance  of  any 
other  duty.  She  taught  Andrew  the  leading  doctrines 
of  the  Bible,  in  the  form  of  question  and  answer,  from 
the  Westminster  catechism :  and  these  lessons  he  never 
forgot.  In  a  conversation  with  him  some  years  since, 
says  a  writer,  "  General  Jackson  spoke  of  his  mother 
in  a  manner  that  convinced  me  that  she  never  ceased 
to  exert  a  secret  power  over  him,  until  his  heart  was 
33 


■-•v 


514     WOMAN  AS  AN  EDUCATOR  ON  THE  FRONTIER. 

brought  into  reconciliation  with  God."  Just  before 
his  death,  which  occurred  in  June,  1855,  he  said  to  a 
clergyman,  "  My  lamp  is  nearly  out,  and  the  last  glim- 
mer is  come,  I  am  ready  to  depart  when  called.  The 
Bible  is  true.  Upon  that  sacred  volume  I  rest  my 
hopes  of  eternal  salvation,  through  the  merits  and 
blood  of  our  blessed  Lord  and  Saviour,  Jesus  Christ." 

K  departed  spirits,  the  saintly  and  ascended,  are 
permitted  to  look  from  their  high  habitation,  upon  the 
scene  of  earth,  with  what  holy  transport  must  the 
mother  of  Andrew  Jackson  have  beheld  the  death-bed 
triumph  of  her  son.  The  lad  whom  she  sent  to  a» 
academy  at  the  Warsaw  mer^'ng-house,  hoping  to  fit 
him  for  the  ministry,  had  become  a  man,  had  filled 
the  highest  elective  oifice  in  the  world,  and  was  now 
an  old  man,  able  in  his  last  earthly  hour,  by  the  grace 
of  God  attending  Ms  early  pious  instruction,  to  chal- 
lenge death  for  his  sting  and  to  shout  "victory"  over 
his  opening  grave. 

It  is  a  faculty  of  the  female  mind  to  penetrate  with 
singular  facility  into  the  true  character  of  the  young. 
Every  intelligent  mother  quickly,  and  by  intuition,  dis- 
cerns the  native  bent  of  her  child  and  measures  his 
endowments.  Evidences  of  latent  talent  in  any  par- 
ticular direction  are  scrutinized  with  maternal  shrewd- 
ness, and  encouraged  by  applause  and  caresses.  The 
lonelier  the  cabin,  the  more  secluded  the  settlement, 
the  sharper  seem  to  grow  the  mother's  eyes,  and  the 
more  profound  this  intuitive  faculty.  It  is  the  mother 
who  first  discerns  the  native  bent  and  endowments  of 
her  child,  and  she  too  is  the  quickest  to  encourage  and 
draw  them  out.  How  many  eminent  and  useful  men 
whose  childhood  was  passed  in  the  outlying  settlements 


THE  MOTHER  OF  WEBSTER. 


515 


have  been  able  to  trace  their  success  to  a  mother's  in- 
sight into  their  capabilities. 

In  one  of  the  forest  homes  on  the  skirts  of  civiliza- 
tion in  Pennsylvania,  Benjamin  West,  the  greatest  his- 
torical painter  of  the  last  century,  showed  first  to  his 
mother's  eyes  the  efforts  of  his  infant  genius.  The 
picture  of  a  smiling  babe  made  on  a  summer's  day, 
when  the  little  painter  was  but  a  child  of  seven,  caught 
his  mother's  delighted  eyes,  and  she  covered  him  with 
her  kisses.  Years  after,  when  Benjamin  West  was  the 
guest  of  kings  and  emperors,  that  immortal  artist  was 
wont  to  recall  those  electric  caresses  and  say  "my 
mother's  kiss  made  me  a  painter." 

Daniel  Webster's  childhood  home  was  in  a  log-cabin 
on  the  banks  of  the  Merrimac,  in  a  sequestered  portion 
of  New  Hampshire.  Here  he  passed  his  boyhood  and 
youth,  and  received  from  his  admirable  mother  those 
lessons  which  formed  his  mind  and  character,  and  fitted 
him  for  that  great  part  which  he  was  to  play  in  public 
life.  She  recognized  the  scope  of  his  genius  when  she 
gave  him  the  copy  of  the  constitution  on  a  pocket 
handkerchief.  She  pinched  every  household  resource 
that. he  might  go  to  Exeter  Academy,  and  to  Dart- 
mouth College,  as  if  she  had  had  a  prophetic  vision 
that  he  would  come  to  be  called  the  defender  of  those 
institutions  which  his  father  fought  to  obtain.  And 
when  in  after  years  he  had  grown  gray  in  honors  and 
usefulness,  he  was  wont  to  refer  with  tears  to  the 
efforts  and  sacrifices  of  this  mother  who  discerned  his 
great  capacity  and  was  determined  that  he  should 
enjoy  the  advantages  of  a  college  education. 

It  is  the  affectionate  and  noble  ambition  of  many 
other  pioneer  mothers  besides  Mrs.  Webster  which  has 


Il 


516     W03tAN  AS  AN  EDUCATOR  ON  THE  FRONTIER. 

secured  to  their  sons  the  benefits  of  a  thorough  aca- 
demical training.  ' 

The  next  step  from  the  home-school  is  the  district- 
school.  The  cabin  which  shelters  a  single  family  is  gener- 
ally placed  with  shrewd  eyes  to  its  being  the  point  around 
which  a  settlement  shall  grow  up.  Wood  and  water 
are  contiguous :  the  soil  is  rich :  not  many  seasons  roll 
away  before  other  cabins  send  up  their  smoke  hard 
by :  children  multiply,  for  these  matrons  of  the  border 
are  fecund :  out  of  the  common  want  rises  the  school- 
house,  built  of  logs,  with  its  rude  benches :  here  the 
school  teacher  is  a  woman — the  grown-up  daughter, 
or  the  maiden  sister  of  the  pioneer. 

How  many  of  our  greatest  men  have  learned  their 
first  rudiments  from  the  lips  of  "school  marms,"  in 
their  primitive  school-houses  on  the  frontier ! 

Population  increases  by  production  and  accession. 
There  is  soon  a  dearth  of  teachers  j  all  along  the  fron- 
tier the  cry  is  sent  up  to  the  east,  come  and  teach  us ! 
Woman  again  comes  to  the  front ;  the  schools  of  the 
border  settlements  have  been  largely  taught  by  the 
faithful  and  devoted  female,  missionaries  in  the  cause 
of  education  from  the  east.  These  pioneer  school 
mistresses  bore  the  discomforts  of  remote  western  life 
patiently,  and  did  their  duties  cheerfully.  Most  of 
them  afterwards  became  wives  and  mothers,  and  have 
in  both  these  relations  done  much  towards  building  up 
the  settlements  where  they  made  their  homes.  Oth- 
ers have  enrolled  their  names  among  the  missionary 
martyrs.  The  toils,  hardships,  and  privations  incident 
to  a  newly  settled  country  have  often  proved  too 
heavy  for  the  delicate  frames  reared  amid  the  com- 
forts and  luxuries  of  eastern  homes,  and  they  have 


MAN  IN  THE  ROUGH. 


517 


fallen  victims  to  their  noble  ambition,  giving  their 
lives  to  the  cause  which  they  sought  to  promote. 

One  of  these  martyrs  was  Miss  M.  She  was  one  of 
that  band  of  lady-teachers,  numbering  several  hundred 
who,  nearly  thirty  years  ago,  went  out  to  the  then 
far  west  under  the  auspices  of  Governor  Slade  and  Miss 
Catharine  Beecher,  to  supply  the  crying  need  of  teach- 
ers which  then  existed  in  that  section  of  our  country. 

This,  it  should  be  remembered,  was  before  railroads 
had  brought  that  region  within  easy  access  from  the 
east.  That  wild,  primeval  garden  had  been,  as  yet, 
redeemed  from  nature  only  in  plots  and  patches.  On 
the  boundless  prairies  of  Illinois  the  cabins  of  the  set- 
tlers were  like  solitary  vessels  moored  in  a  waste  of 
waters,  and  between  them  rolled  in  green  billows, 
under  the  wind,  the  tall,  coarse  grass.  The  settlers 
themselves  were  of  the  most  adventurous  and  often 
of  the  roughest  class.  Society  presented  to  the  cul- 
tured eye  a  rude  and  almost  barbarous  aspect. 

Man,  while  grappling,  almost  unaided,  with  untamed 
nature,  and  seeking  to  subdue  her,  seems  to  gravitate 
away  from  civilization  and  approach  his  primitive 
state.  Everything  is  taken  in  the  rough;  the  arts 
and  the  graces  of  a  more  settled  condition  of  society 
are  cultivated  but  little,  because  they  are  non-essen- 
tials. The  physical  quaUties  are  prized  more  than 
mental  culture,  and  the  sentiment«(  and  sensibilities  are 
in  abeyance  during  the  reign  of  the  more  robust 
emotions. 

During  the  onset  which  the  pioneer  makes  upon 
the  wilderness  he  and  his  entire  family  bear  the 
rugged  impress  which  such  a  life  stamps  upon  them. 
The  wife,  in  the  practice  of  the  sterner  virtues  of 


518      WOMAN  AS  AN  El  UCATOR  ON  THE  FRONTIER. 


courage,  self-denial,  and  fortitude,  may  become  hard- 
ened against  the  access  of  the  quick  sensibilities  and 
tfinder  emotions  of  her  more  delicately  reared  sisters. 
The  children,  bright-eyed,  strong,  and  nimble,  run  like 
squirrels  through  the  woods,  and  leap  like  fawns  on 
the  plain.  The  mother's  tutelage  has  done  much,  but 
more  remains  to  be  done  in  the  schooling  to  be  had 
froin  books.  After  the  first  victory  has  been  won  over 
the  forest  and  the  soil,  and  the  pioneer  reposes  for  a 
season  upon  his  laurels,  in  comparative  ease,  he  discerns 
the  needs  of  his  flock,  and  craves  the  offices  of  one 
who  can  supply  the  place  of  the  weary  mother  in 
schooling  the  children. 

Out  of  the  void  that  exists  the  appliances  of  educa- 
tion must  be  created ;  the  nurslings  of  the  plain  must 
be  brought  together  and  taught  to  subject,  themselven 
to  the  regular  discipline  of  the  district  school;  anc 
who  but  woman  can  best  supply  such  a  discipline  ! 

Such  wac  the  condition  of  frontier  society  and  edu- 
cation when  Miss  M.  came  to  Illinois.  Her  immediate 
field  of  labor  was  a  wide  prairie,  over  which  were 
thinly  scattered  the  cabins  of  the  pioneer  families. 
There  were  no  books,  no  school  house,  no  antecedent 
knowledge  of  what,  was  needed.  But  under  the 
advice  and  suggestions  of  this  intelligent  young  lady 
every  want  was,  in  a  measure  supplied.  A  rough 
structure,  with  logs  for  seats,  and  planks  for  benches, 
was  soon  prepared,  books  ])rovided,  and  the  children 
gathered  together  into  the  comfortless  room,  where 
Miss  M.  made  her  first  essay  as  a  preceptor  of  the 
littV)  pioneers. 

The  children  were  like  wild  thinG:s  caught  and  con- 
fined  in  a  cage.     Their  restlessness  was  a  severe  tax 


I 


I 


N 


- 


HARDSHIPS  OF  A  PIONEER  SCHOOLMISTRESS.      5I9 

to  the  patience  of  the  delicate  girl.  The  long  walk 
to  and  from  the  school  room  in  all  weathers,  through 
the  snows  of  winter,  the  mud  of  spring,  and  against 
the  blast  which  sweeps  those  plains,  formed  no  small 
part  of  her  labor.  Luxuries  and  even  comforts  were 
denied  her.  They  gave  her  the  best  they  had,  but 
that  was  poor  enough.  Her  chamber  was  an  unplas- 
tered  loft;  her  bed  a  shaPcdown  of  dried  grass.  The 
moonbeams  showed  fier  the  crevices  where  the  rain 
trickled  in,  and  the  snow  fringed  her  coverlid.  Her 
fare  was  of  the  coarsest,  and  her  social  intercourse,  to 
her  sensitive  nature,  was  almost  forbidding. 

But  she  never  swerved  from  the  course  she  had 
marked  out,  nor  shrank  from  the  labors  and  duties 
incident  to  her  mission.  Her  body,  extremely  fragile, 
was  the  tenement  of  an  intellect  of  premature  activity 
and  grasp,  a  native  delicacy,  sensibility,  and  great 
moral  force.  She  was  a  born  missionary,  and  in  the 
difficult  and  trying  career  which  she  had  chosen,  she 
showed  courage,  self-denial,  tenacity  of  purpose,  which, 
combined  with  a  sweetness  of  disposition,  soon  made 
her  beloved  by  her  scholars  and  enabled  her  to  soften 
their  wildness,  smooth  their  rudeness,  and  impress  upon 
their  minds  the  lessons  of  knowledge  which  it  was  her 
study  to  impart. 

In  sunshine  or  storm  her  presenv  e  was  never  want- 
ing at  her  post  of  duty.  On  the  dark  mornings  of 
winter  she  could  have  been  seen  convoying  her  little 
protegSs  through  the  driving  sleet,  or  the  snow,  or 
slush,  and  those  rough  but  not  unkindly  porenta 
scarcely  dreamed  that  her  life  was  waning.  The  vivid 
carnation  of  her  cheeks  was  not  painted  by  the  frosty 
air,  nor  by  the  scorching  heat  of  the  iron  box  which 


520      WOMAN  AS  AN  EDUCATOR  ON  THE  FRONTIER. 

warmed  her  little  charges  as  thej  gathered  beneath 
the  ethereal  splendors  of  her  eye  in  the  school  room. 
The  destroyer  had  set  his  seal  upon  her,  but  her  frail 
body  was  swayed  and  animated  by  the  spirit  whose 
energies  even  mortal  disease  could  not  subdue. 

The  discovery  of  the  sacrifice  was  too  late,  though 
all  that  rude  kindness  and  unlearned  thoughtfulness 
could  do  was  lavished  upon  her  in  those  few  days  that 
remained  to  her.  Months  of  exposure,  hardship,  soli- 
tude of  the  soul,  and  intense  ambition  in  her  noble 
mission  had  done  their  work,  and  before  the  light  oi 
th."^  tenth  day  after  she  was  driven  to  her  couch,  had 
faded,  surrounded  by  a  score  of  her  pupils,  she  passed 
away,  and  was  numbered  in  the  army  of  missionary 
heroines  and  martyrs. 

Those  brave  labors  and  that  noble  life  was  not  foi 
nougiit.  The  lessons  taught  those  pupils,  the  high 
example  set  before  them,  and  the  life  expended  for 
their  sake  were  not  lost  or  forgotten.  Some  of  those 
little  scholars  have  groyn  to  be  good  and  useful  men 
and  women,  and  are  now  repeating,  in  other  schools, 
farther  towards  the  setting  sun,  the  lessons  and  exam- 
ple of  devotion  which  they  learned  from  the  teacher 
who  gave  her  life  that  they  might  have  knowledge. 

The  place  which  woman,  as  an  educator,  now  fills, 
and  so  long  has  filled  upon  the  frontier,  is  not  bounded, 
however,  by  the  home-school,  nor  by  the  district 
school,  in  both  of  which  she  is  the  teacher  of  the 
young.  She  is  the  educator  of  the  man.  She  moulds 
and  guides  society. 

The  home  where  she  rules  is  the  centor  and  focus 
from  which  wells  out  an  influence  as  light  wells  out 
from  the  sun.    The  glow  of  the  fireside  where  the 


HOME  AND  MOTHER. 


521 


mother  sits,  is  a  beacon  whose  light  stretches  far  out 
to  guide  and  guard. 

The  word  "  home,"  as  used  among  the  old  races  of 
Northern  Europe,  contains  in  its  true  signification 
something  mystic  and  religious.  The  female  patriarch 
of  the  household  was  regarded  with  superstitious  ven- 
eration. Her  sayings  were  wise  and  good,  and  the 
warrior  sat  at  her  feet  on  the  eve  of  battle  and  gath- 
ered from  her  as  from  an  oracle,  the  confidence  and 
courage  which  nerved  him  for  the  fight;  and  to- 
day the  picture  of  an  aged  mother  sitting  by  the 
hearth,  and  the  recollection  of  her  counsels,  is  a 
source  of  comfort  and  strength  to  many  a  son  who  is 
far  away  fighting  the  battle  of  life.  The  home  and 
mother  is  the  polar-star  of  absent  sons  and  daughters. 
She  who  sat  by  the  cradled  bed  of  childhood,  "  the 
first,  the  last,  the  faithfulest  of  friends,"  she,  the  guard- 
ian of  infancy,  is  the  loving  and  never  to  be  forgotten 
guide  of  riper  years.  As  far  as  thought  can  run  upon 
this  earthly  sphere,  or  memory  fondly  send  back  its 
gaze,  so  far  can  the  influence  of  a  mother  reach  to 
cheer,  to  sustain,  to  elevate,  and  to  keep  the  mind 
and  heart  from  swerving  away  from  the  true  and  the 
right. 

One  who  received  his  early  training  fVom  a  mother's 
lips  in  a  frontier  State,  and  afterward  attained  to 
wealth  and  influence  in  one  of  our  mountain  repub- 
lics, lately  told  the  writer  that  he  kept  the  picture  of 
his  mother  hanging  up  in  his  chamber,  where  it  was 
the  last  object  which  his  eyes  lighted  on  before  retir- 
ing, and  the  first  upon  rising ;  and  whenever  he  was 
about  to  adopt  any  new  course,  or  commence  any  new 
enterprise  into  which  the  question  of  right  or  wrong 


\:\ 


522     WOMAN  AS  AN  EDUCATOR  ON  THE  FRONTIER 

entered,  he  always  asked  himself,  "what  will  my 
mother  say  if  I  do  thus  and  thus  ?"  That  mother's 
influence  was  upon  him  though  a  thousand  miles  away 
from  her,  and  the  thought  of  her  in  the  crises  of  his 
life  was  the  load-star  of  his  strong  heart  and  mind. 

We  may  well  imagine  those  hardy  sons  who  are 
now  building  up  our  empire  ixi  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
as  finding  in  a  mother's  portrait  a  tie  which  binds 
them  fast  to  the  counsels  and  the  love  of  their  earliest 
guardian,  and  that  as  they  gaze  on  the  "  counterfeit 
presentment "  of  those  endeared  features,  they  might 
long  to  hear  again  the  faithful  counsels  which  guided 
their  youth,  exclaiming  with  the  poet, 

*'  O,  that  those  lips  had  language !  life  has  passed 
With  me  but  roughly  since  I  saw  thee  last." 

We  have  elsewhere  spoken  of  the  refining  and  hu- 
manizing influence  of  woman,  amid  the  rude  and  al^ 
most  barbarous  atmosphere  of  frontier  life.  The 
mother  moulds  and  trains  the  child,  the  wife  moulds 
and  trains  the  husband,  the  sister  moulds  and  trains 
the  brother,  the  daughters  mould  and  train  the  fa- 
ther. We  speak  now  of  moulding  and  of  training  in 
a  l)roadcr  sense  than  they  are  embraced  in  the  cur- 
riculum of  books.  The  influence  exerted  is  subtle, 
but  not  the  less  potent.  Woman  is  the  civilizer  par 
excellence.  Society  in  its  narrower  meaning  exists 
by  her  and  through  her.  That  state  of  man  which 
is  best  ordered  and  safest,  is  only  where  woman's  mem- 
bership is  most  truly  recognized. 

Man  alone  gravitates  naturally  towards  (ho  savage 
state.  Communities  of  men,  such  as  exist  in  some  of 
our  most  remote  territories,  are  mere  clubs  of  barba- 


A  SAVAGE  SEMI-PANDEMONIUM. 


523 


rians.  They  may  be  strong,  energetic,  and  brave, 
but  their  very  virtues  are  such  as  those  which  savages 
possess. 

Into  one  of  the  loneliest  valleys  in  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, some  years  sin«je,  fifty  men,  attracted  by  the 
golden  sands  which  were  rolled  down  by  the  torrents, 
built  their  huts  and  gave  the  settlement  a  name. 
There  were  calbiiis,  a  tavern,  and  a  bar-room.  There 
were  men  toiling  and  spending  their  gain  in  gambling 
and  rioting.  There  was  rugged  strength  and  hardi- 
hood. There  was  food  and  shelter,  and  yet  there  was 
no  basis  for  civil  and  social  organism,  as  those  terms 
are  properly  understood,  because  no  wi^o,  no  mother, 
no  home  was  there. 

Those  strong  and  hardy  men  clove  the  rock  and 
sifted  the  soil,  and  chained  the  cataract,  but  their  law 
was  force  and  cunning,  and  the  only  tie  they  recog- 
nized was  a  partnership  in  gain.  What  civilization  or 
true  citizenship  could  there  be  in  a  society  in  Avhich 
the  family  circle  and  its  kindred  outgrowth — the  school 
and  the  church — were  unknown !  The  denizens  of 
that  mountain  camp  slid,  by  an  irresistible  law  of  grav- 
itation, away  from  civil  order,  from  social  beneficence, 
and  from  humanity.  They  gorged  themselves,  and 
swore,  and  wrangled,  and  fought,  and  like  the  "  drag- 
ons of  the  prime,"  they  tore  each  other  in  their  sclfi;sh 
greed  for  that  which  was  their  only  care. 

Into  this  savage  semi-pandemonium  entered  one 
day,  two  unwonted  visitors — the  wives  of  miners  who 
had  come  to  join  their  husbands.  Polite,  kind,  gentle, 
intelligent,  and  pious,  their  very  prcHonce  SLonuMl  to 
change  the  moral  atmosphere  of  the  place.  All  the 
dormant  chivalry  of  man's  nature  was  awakened.   Their 


H 


524      WOMAN  AS  AN  EDUCATOR  ON  THE  FRONTIER. 

appearance  in  the  midst  of  t^  "t  turbulent  band  was  a 
sedative  which  soon  allayed  the  chronic  turmoil  in 
which  the  settlement  was  embroiled.  The  reign  of 
order  commenced  again:  manners  became  softened, 
morals  purified :  the  law  of  kindness  was  re-established, 
and  slowly  out  of  social  chaos  arose  the  inchoate  form 
of  a  well-ordered  civil  society. 

This  illustrates  woman's  influence  in  one  of  the  pe- 
culiar conditions  of  our  American  frontier  communi- 
ties. But  in  all  other  phases  of  true  pioneer  life,  her 
influence  is  as  strongly,  if  not  as  strikingly  displayed 
as  a  humanizing,  refining,  and  civilizing  agent. 

We  have  said  that  woman  is  the  cohesive  force 
which  holds  society  together.  This  thesis  may  be 
proved  by  facts  which  show  that  power  in  all  those  re- 
lations in  which  she  stands  to  the  other  sex.  In  cul- 
tured circles  she  shapes  and  controls  by  the  charms  of 
beauty  and  manner.  But  in  the  lonely  and  rude  cabin 
on  the  border  her  plastic  power  is  far  greater  because 
her  presence  and  ofiices  are  essentials  without  which  de- 
velopment dwindles  and  progress  is  palsied.  There,  if 
anywhere,  should  be  the  vivified  germ  of  the  town  and 
the  state.  There,  if  anywhere,  should  be  the  embry- 
onic conditions  which  will  ripen  one  day  into  a  mighty 
civil  growth.  A  wife's  devotion,  the  purity  of  a  sis- 
ter's and  a  daughter's  love,  the  smiles  and  tears  and 
prayers  of  a  mother — these  make  the  sunshine  which 
transforms  the  waste  into  a  paradise,  the  wild  into  a 
garden,  and  expands  the  home  by  a  law  of  organic 
growth  into  a  well  ordered  community. 

The  basis  of  civil  law  and  social  order  *s  tlio  silent 
compact  which  binds  the  household  into  one  sweet 
purpose  of  a  common  interest,  a  common  happiness. 


WOMAN'S  INFLUENCE  ON  MAN. 


525 


Woman  is  the  unconscious  legislator  of  the  frontier. 
The  gentle  restraints  of  the  home  circle,  its  calm,  its 
rest,  its  security  form  the  unwritten  code  of  which  the 
statute  book  is  the  written  exponent 

The  cross  is  emblazoned  on  the  rude  entablature 
above  the  hearth-stone  of  the  cabin,  and  where  wo- 
man is,  there  is  the  holy  rest  of  the  blessed  sabbath. 
She,  who  is  the  child's  instructor  in  the  truths  of  re- 
vealed religion,  is  also  the  father's  guide  and  mentor 
in  the  same  ways.  Faith  and  hope  in  these  doctrines 
as  cherished  by  woman  are  the  sheet  anchors  of  our 
unknit  civilizations. 

Law  is  established  because  woman's  presence  ren- 
ders more  desirable,  life,  property,  and  the  other  objects 
for  which  laws  are  made. 

Religion  purifies  and  sanctifies  the  frontier  home 
because  she  is  the  repository  and  early  instructress  in 
its  Holy  Creeds. 

The  influence  that  woman  exerts  on  man  is  one  that 
exalts :  while  she  educates  her  child  she  elevates  and 
ennobles  the  entire  circle  of  the  family. 

If  we  cast  our  eyes  back  over  the  vast  procession  of 
actors  and  events  which  have  composed  the  migrations 
of  our  race  across  the  continent,  from  ocean  to  ocean, 
we  are  first  struck  by  the  bolder  features  of  the  march. 
We  see  the  battles,  the  feats  of  courage  and  daring, 
the  deeds  of  high  enterprise  in  which  woman  is  the 
heroine,  standing  shoulder  to  shoulder  beside  her  hero- 
mate.  Again  we  look  and  see  the  wife  and  mother 
worn  with  toils  and  hardships,  and  wasted  with  suffer- 
ing which  she  endures  with  unshaken  heart — a  mira- 
cle of  fortitude  and  pationoe.  Then  we  behold  her  as 
the  comforter  and  the  guardian  of  the  household  amid 


\\\ 


526     W^OMAN  AS  AN  EDUCATOR  ON  TEE  FRONTIER. 

a  thousand  trying  scenes,  soothing,  strengthenings 
cheering,  and  preserving. 

Grand  and  beautiful  indeed  are  such  spectacles  as 
these.  They  rivet  the  eye,  they  swell  the  breast,  they 
lift  the  soul  of  the  gazer,  because  they  are  an  exhibi- 
tion of  great  virtues  exercised  on  a  wide  field,  in  a  no- 
ble cause — the  subjugation  of  the  wilderness,  and  the 
extension  of  the  area  of  civilization.  The  hero  who 
fights,  the  martyr  who  dies,  the  sufferer  who  bleeds, 
the  spirit  of  kindness  and  sympathy  which  comforts 
and  confirms  are  objects  which  call  for  our  tears,  our 
praise,  our  gratitude.  But  after  all,  these  are  incidents 
merely,  glorious  and  soul-stirring  indeed,  yet  scarcely 
more  than  superficial  features  and  external  agencies 
of  the  grand  march,  compared  to  the  moral  influence 
which  emanates  from  the  wife  and  mother  in  a  million 
homes  and  through  a  million  lives  with  a  steadfastness 
and  power  and  beneficence  which  can  best  be  likened 
to  the  sunshine. 

We  praise  it  less  because  it  is  everywhere.  "We 
hardly  see  it,  but  we  know  that  it  is  present,  and  that 
society — ^frontier  society — could  not  long  exist  without 
that  penetrating,  shaping,  elevating  force.  And  so 
while  we  applaud  the  heroine  we  may  not  forget  the 
patient  and  often  unconscious  educator. 

When  the  philosophical  historian  of  the  future  col- 
liects  the  myriad  fiicts  upon  which  he  is  to  base  those 
generalizations  which  show  the  progress  of  the  race 
upon  this  continent,  and  how  that  progress  was  in- 
duced, he  will  draw  from  woman's  record  a  ni>ble  array 
of  names  and  virtues,  and  a  vast  niultlluili!  of  good, 
kind,  and  brave  deeds,  but  he  will  not  forget  to  take 
note  also  of  the  silent  agencies,  and  the  unublnislve 


WOMAN'S  SILENT  AGENCY. 


527 


but  ever-present  influence  of  woman  which  will  be 
found  to  outweigh  the  potency  of  the  stronger  and 
more  brilliant  virtues  with  all  the  acts  that  they  have 
wrought. 

And  so  it  is  to-day.  As  we  gaze  fixedly  on  the 
great  expanse  which  the  record  of  our  time  unrolls, 
we  see  high  up  on  the  majestic  scroll  a  thousand  bright 
and  speaking  evidences  of  woman's  silent  agency  in 
the  building  of  a  new  empire  upon  our  dark  and 
distant  borderland. 


li 


